Snow Burns
by Marauders2003
Summary: Sequel to Snow Balls: With the Ministry working to discredit Dumbledore and Harry, Genevieve is one of the few people who sticks by them. This is her last year as a Hogwarts student, and it’s full of insufferable Dolores Umbridge, the stress of N.E.W.T.s, what to do after graduating Hogwarts, and the D.A. But when Umbridge threatens to take everything from her, what will she do?
1. Chapter 1: The Unplottable House

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Genevieve's father had filled her in on the details as he had been instructed by Dumbledore. They were to arrive at the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, a secret society of people whose aim was to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters, formed, of course, by Dumbledore, at the same time as the Weasleys would with Hermione. Sirius and Lupin, along with a few other Order members would be waiting for them there. Then the Order would commence one of their first meetings since reestablishment.

Her father told her that she was not to join the Order of the Phoenix until she'd graduated Hogwarts at the end of the year, nor would Fred and George be allowed to. This slightly irked her, as she was of age, ready and eager to help. Genevieve understood that he just wanted to keep her safe, however, as he had explained that her mother had died doing work for the Order.

Holding onto her packed trunk, she grasped her father's arm (as she didn't know the location of the headquarters for the Order) and felt the rather unpleasant sensation of Disapparition. They appeared on a street full of stained, dilapidated houses. The only odd thing was . . .

"The addresses," Genevieve pointed out, confused, "it's straight from 11 Grimmauld Place to 13 Grimmauld Place."

"Yes," her father said distractedly, rummaging in his robes for something. "Aha!" He pulled out a bit of parchment and showed it to her.

 _The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

"But . . ." Genevieve started, but, as she thought of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, a house appeared, just as filthy as those around it. "The Fidelius Charm," she breathed.

"Indeed," her father answered. "Come on . . ." They hurried inside.

It was almost completely dark as they entered the house, and what little Genevieve could make out was dusty and grimy; it was obvious no one had lived here for many years. She stood still, not daring to touch anything.

Her father spoke in a way that sounded almost like he was imitating Parseltongue, and lamps all around them flickered on. Footsteps creaked toward them.

Lupin and Sirius were looking at them, grinning, though Sirius, Genevieve noticed, was much more subdued than usual. Behind them stood several people: a woman with bubble-gum pink hair, a tall black man with a single golden hoop earring, and the real Mad-Eye Moody.

"So . . ." Genevieve said awkwardly. "Where's Buckbeak?"

Sirius grinned for real this time. He jerked his head upstairs. "Keeping him in my mum's old bedroom. About the best way I could think to disrespect her now, it was."

"Your mother's bedroom?" Genevieve asked.

"Ah, yes. Welcome to my childhood home." Sirius said grimly. "I've offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters for the Order. It's about the only useful thing I can do, being a wanted fugitive and all."

She gave him a sympathetic smile.

"I'll take you to him," Sirius offered. As he led the way through a dank hallway, he whispered, "Watch out for the — "

It was too late. Genevieve had already tripped over an umbrella stand that looked suspiciously like a troll's leg, which crashed to the ground rather loudly, causing a set of curtains she had just passed to fly open, revealing a portrait of a rather ugly woman who screeched insults at them.

 _"Filth! Scum! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers —_ "

Sirius and Lupin struggled to close the curtains again, eventually managing to shut her up.

"Sorry," Genevieve said quietly.

"What are you sorry about?" Sirius asked, smiling. "You've upset my mother."

"Your _mother_?"

"Yes," he replied bitterly. "I've been trying to get her down, but I believe she's put up a Permanent Sticking Charm. Ah well, we can try again later."

They entered the filthy room, and Buckbeak, seeing her and Sirius, hurried over. They bowed, and he reciprocated it, before petting him. As Genevieve looked after Buckbeak, Sirius warned her about Kreacher, their bitter house-elf.

"If you have a house-elf, what's he been doing these past years?" Genevieve asked. "Certainly not cleaning."

"I don't know, and I don't care to know," Sirius said dully. "I hate being back here."

Genevieve looked at him. "I know what you mean," she said. When he looked at her in surprise, she elaborated. "Well, obviously my mum's side of the family wasn't as interested in the quality of one's blood as your seems to have been, but I was in my grandfather's house when he died." She shuddered, "I'd hate having to go back there again; too many memories. This must be hell for you, not being allowed to leave."

He nodded. "Not even as an Animagus, as Wormtail will have doubtless told Voldemort of my great disguise. I'm stuck here."

"Do you know when Harry will be arriving?" Genevieve asked. The boy's presence usually seemed to cheer him up.

"No," he sighed. They heard a clambering, though much quieter than usual, downstairs. "That'll be the Weasleys," Sirius said. "I'd better get downstairs; the Order meeting where I'm reminded of everything I can't do."

Genevieve nodded and they went back down. When the twins saw her, they almost rammed into her. "Meet us in our room later," George said softly. "We've more ideas for the joke shop."

As usual, Genevieve would be sleeping with Hermione and Ginny. Mrs. Weasley surveyed the house with distaste, but she tried to remain polite.

"Well, I daresay we'll be busy this summer," she said. "It'll be a wonderful way to keep us busy, cleaning."

Genevieve didn't see a kid in the room who didn't grimace slightly.

"Well, we've got to have a meeting," she said briskly. "In the — er — kitchen."

And the adults exited the room. Fred and George looked appalled.

"We want to be in there, we're of age!"

"But they don't want us to until at least after we've left Hogwarts," Genevieve reminded.

"Well, then, we'll use other ways of finding out what's been going on," Fred said stubbornly. George held up a long, flesh-colored string.

"Extendable Ears," they explained, already looping one end into the kitchen. Everyone gathered around the other end.

The Ear told them many things. The Order was trying to recruit new members, though they'd already gotten some, the woman with the bubble-gum hair — Tonks, they referred to her as — and the tall black man — Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Genevieve had heard those names before, through her father's job in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "They're Aurors," she explained.

They were also having Order members tail Harry over the summer, to make sure that he was safe and not doing anything rash. Some followed Death Eaters. And they were talking about guarding something, guard duty.

This baffled the entire group, who spent the rest of the meeting pondering what they could be guarding. Finally, the meeting ended, and the twins hastily extracted the Ears and hid them again. Mrs. Weasley and the rest of the Order reentered the room.

"Well, I suppose I should start fixing dinner," she said curtly, striding back into the kitchen.

"I'll help!" Tonks offered eagerly, trying to follow her but tripping.

"Er — I think I can manage," Mrs. Weasley said delicately. Tonks looked disappointed, but quickly noticed Genevieve and the others staring at her.

"Wotcher," she greeted, her face brightening. "I'm Tonks."

"Is that your first name?" Hermione asked curiously.

Tonks grimaced. "No," she admitted. "But _don't_ call me by my first name."

"What is it?" Ginny asked, interested.

The Auror scowled. "Nymphadora."

The twins snickered. Genevieve elbowed them reprovingly.

"If I may ask," Genevieve started, "how old are you? You seem quite young to be an Auror."

Tonks grinned proudly. "I'm fairly new; I only left Hogwarts in 1991. Qualified in 1994."

"So you were in the same year as Charlie Weasley," Genevieve noted. She hadn't been able to talk to Charlie much about anything, and vice versa, as letters could be intercepted. It was frustrating, as he was one of her greatest confidants.

"Yeah, I knew Charlie. He's in the Order too, recruiting foreign wizards in Romania. And you — " Tonks leaned forward, studying Genevieve, " — must be Genevieve, the little genius he was always talking about. Not so little anymore, are you?"

Genevieve smiled. " _Always_ talking about, you say?" Fred asked, smirking.

"Shut up," Genevieve said.

Dinner was a rather merry event. Genevieve's father was talking to Lupin, Mr. Weasley, and Bill, whom the twins had informed her had applied for a desk job in England, about recruiting more Ministry workers for the Order.

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were talking to Tonks about being an Auror. Fred and George were trying to charm their food to come to them, which had hilariously disastrous results. Moody, Sirius, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were discussing Sirius' case, which Kingsley was in charge of. Apparently, Shacklebolt was planning on steering the hunt toward Tibet. Mrs. Weasley was deciding where to start cleaning the house.

It was almost too enjoyable. _Surely Percy would have pompously reprimanded the twins by now,_ Genevieve thought. But Percy was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's P — " she started, but Fred covered her mouth with his hand while George muttered "we'll tell you later" in her ear. The room had gone silent.

Mrs. Weasley stared down at her plate, eyes beginning to water, while Mr. Weasley gripped his glass very tightly. It shattered in his hand.

"Do you want to see something?" Tonks offered, trying to break the tension. She screwed up her face in concentration and her nose changed form. It because long and crooked, like Snape's.

Everyone laughed. "You're a Metamorphmagus?" Genevieve asked, amazed.

"Yeah," Tonks said, and, as if to demonstrate, she transformed her nose into a pig's snout. Thankfully, dinner carried on, Tonks performing a fantastic show with her ever changing nose.

•~0~•

She was sitting on a bed in the twins' room. They had explained how Percy had betrayed the family, and Genevieve had expressed her disgust at his actions. Now they were brainstorming more ideas for the joke shop, including having a physical store.

"We're planning on operating out of the _Daily Prophet_ for the time being," Fred explained. "Mum refuses to read it anymore."

Genevieve nodded. Lately, the _Daily Prophet_ had been taking every chance to abuse Dumbledore and Harry, trying to discredit them.

"How're you going to pay for all this, though?"

"We've got the funds," George said mysteriously.

"How? Bagman took all your savings, remember?"

They looked at each other. "All right," Fred relented. "Harry said not to tell anyone, but I reckon you're fine. _He gave us his Triwizard winnings._ "

"He _didn't_ ," Genevieve said, eyes widening in disbelief.

"He did," George said. "With the deal that we buy ickle Ronniekins some new dress robes."

"Don't see how it'll help his looks," Fred sniggered.

They all laughed. Then Genevieve heard the unmistakable sound of Mrs. Weasley's footsteps.

"I should be in bed by now," she said. "Gotta go."

She Disapparated with a loud _crack!_


	2. Chapter 2: Useless Information

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

"I hate this," Genevieve lamented as she penned yet another letter to Harry that was devoid of any news, though it did wish him a happy birthday.

"Me too," Hermione sighed. "But Dumbledore made us swear — "

"I know, but he's been stuck with those Muggles for a month now, and we're still not allowed to say anything to him!" Ron groaned.

"Oh," Hermione said worriedly. "He's likely to do something crazy if we don't tell him _something_!"

"I wish we could," Genevieve said in the same tone.

Over the past few weeks, Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, and the children had decontaminated much of the house while the others went to work or did business for the Order. Many Order members had dropped by the house at various times, including Dedalus Diggle, Hestia Jones, Elphias Doge, Snape, and even McGonagall, who had smiled warmly at Genevieve on her way out.

They'd been trying to get more information out of the Order, but Mrs. Weasley had recently discovered the Extendable Ears, and they'd had to be extremely careful lest they wanted her to destroy more.

"Well, it's not like we know much anyway," Hermione reasoned, though Genevieve could tell she felt guilty. "You-Know-Who hasn't been doing anything obvious."

"And if the Order knows anything, they're not telling us," Genevieve finished exasperatedly.

•~0~•

A few days later, Sirius burst into the room, looking almost panicked.

"I need parchment," he said. "Parchment and a quill."

"Here," Genevieve handed him some, along with ink, bewildered. "What's happened?"

"Arthur's just told us; Harry's in trouble with the Ministry. He used the Patronus Charm in front of a Muggle," Sirius said in one breath.

He left the room in a hurry to send the letter, and minutes later Genevieve heard the voices of Dumbledore, angrier than she'd ever heard it, and Mundungus Fletcher's, cowering.

They crept downstairs and watched the scene play out before them. Apparently, it had been Mundungus' turn to follow Harry, but he'd left before the end of his shift to buy stolen cauldrons, a fact that didn't please Mrs. Weasley or Dumbledore at all. Harry had used the Patronus Charm. The Ministry had tried to expel Harry and destroy his wand, but Dumbledore had managed to stop them, just barely. His fate now rested on the disciplinary hearing, which was set for August 12th.

They stared at each other, wide-eyed, before returning to Ron's room. No sooner had they settled in than Hedwig flew in through the window, with letters for each of them and Sirius, all saying the same thing.

 _I've just been attacked by dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here._

They exchanged worried looks.

"What're we going to tell him?"

Any response the others had was brutally cut off by Hedwig, who began attacking them with her beak.

"Ouch!"

"What's she doing that for?"

Genevieve ducked, trying to avoid the owl's fury. "I suppose Harry's told her to make sure we actually answer this time!"

"But we can't!" Hermione said, pleading with Hedwig. "We're not allowed to; Dumbledore's made us swear we wouldn't!"

The words meant nothing to Hedwig, who wouldn't rest until they were all properly scratched up. Ron was nursing a rather deep wound on his forefinger.

Hermione studied furiously to ensure the Ministry wouldn't be able to convict Harry of anything.

Thankfully, the Order was planning on getting Harry very soon. Four days after the incident, Lupin announced they would go to retrieve him that night.

"I'd like to go," Genevieve said.

Lupin gave her a look. "We're bringing him on broomsticks."

"Yeah, never mind." Unless her coordination had exponentially improved from earlier that day, when she'd knocked over a chair, the thought of her on a broomstick was preposterous.

Sirius sighed. Genevieve knew he wanted to go get him too, but, per Dumbledore's orders, he was cooped up in this wretched house for an indefinite amount of time. They couldn't risk him being seen.

"Who's going?" Genevieve asked.

"Me, Tonks, Mad-Eye, Kingsley, Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, Emmeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore, and Hestia Jones," Lupin listed.

"That's a lot of guards for one person," she noted.

"Yes, well, a lot of people volunteered."

"The more, the better," Moody said cynically.

"Tonks has already set a plan in motion to lure the Dursleys out so we can get him," Lupin explained.

Tonks grinned. She was trying out a new hair color, violent violet.

"Think the Dursleys will be too happy when they realize that there is no All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition?"

Genevieve laughed, remembering how they had reacted the previous year when Mr. Weasley had blown up their fireplace.

•~0~•

When the rest of the Order had returned, presumably with Harry, though Genevieve didn't see him, they congregated for one of the biggest meetings she'd seen since arriving. Her and Ginny sat at the top of the stairs, flinging Dungbombs at the kitchen door. Tonks had, in a moment of pity, told them how to find out whether an Imperturbable Charm had been placed on the door.

The Dungbombs refused to touch the door, zooming away (and sometimes back at them) instead. Genevieve sighed. They wouldn't be able to hear what's going on.

Shouts had just stopped erupting from upstairs; Harry was here and he wasn't happy. The two looked at each other.

"Let's go," Genevieve said.

They walked into the room.

"Oh hello, Harry!" Ginny greeted cheerfully. "We thought we heard your voice."

Genevieve smiled at him and waved. He didn't smile back. Genevieve chose to inform Fred and George.

"It's no go with the Extendable Ears, your mum's put an Imperturbable Charm on the door of the kitchen," she told them.

"How d'you know?" asked George, sounding defeated.

"Tonks told us how to find out," Ginny explained. "You just chuck stuff at the door and if it can't make contact the door's been Imperturbed. We've been flicking Dungbombs at it from the top of the stairs and they just soar away from it, so there's no way the Extendable Ears will be able to get under the gap."

Fred sighed deeply. "Shame. I really fancied finding out what old Snape's been up to."

"Snape?" Harry pounced. "Is he here?"

"Yeah," George answered. "Giving a report. Top secret."

"Git," Fred said. Genevieve nodded her agreement.

"He's on our side now," Hermione pointed out.

"Doesn't stop him being a git," Ron said. "The way he looks at us when he sees us . . ."

"He's been taunting Sirius," Genevieve said.

"Bill doesn't like him either," Ginny said. She looked up to Bill.

"Is Bill here?" Harry asked. "I thought he was working in Egypt."

"He applied for a desk job so he could come home and work for the Order," Fred explained. "He says he misses the tombs, but there are compensations . . ."

Genevieve snorted. "Don't see how _she_ would make him want to stay, but . . ."

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked curiously. "Who?"

"Remember old Fleur Delacour? She's got a job at Gringotts to _eemprove 'er Eeenglish —_ "

" — and Bill's been giving her a lot of private lessons," Fred completed, snickering.

"Charlie's in the Order too, but he's still in Romania, Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie's trying to make contacts on his days off."

"Couldn't Percy do that?"

Genevieve laughed humorlessly. "Percy's about as useful as a burnt up photograph of Lockhart."

"Whatever you do, don't mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad," Ron warned Harry.

"Why not?"

"Because every time Percy's name's mentioned, Dad breaks whatever he's holding and Mum starts crying."

"He's not worth it," Genevieve said darkly.

"It's been awful," Ginny commented.

"I think we're well shut of him," George said.

"What's happened?"

"Percy and Dad had a row. I've never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It's normally Mum who shouts . . ."

"It was the first week back after term ended. We were about to come and join the Order. Percy came home and told us he'd been promoted."

"You're kidding?"

Genevieve shook her head.

"Yeah, we were all surprised because Percy got into a loaf of trouble about Crouch, there was an inquiry and everything. They said Percy ought to have realized Crouch was off his rocker and informed a superior. But you know Percy, Crouch left him in charge, he wasn't going to complain . . ."

"Values power over human decency," Genevieve muttered darkly.

"So how come they promoted him?"

"That's exactly what we wondered. He came home really pleased with himself — even more pleased than usual if you can imagine that — and told Dad he'd been offered a job in Fudge's own office. A really good one for someone only a year out of Hogwarts — Junior Assistant to the Minister. He expected Dad to be all impressed, I think."

"Only he wasn't," Fred said.

"Why not?"

"Well, apparently Fudge has been storming round the Ministry checking that nobody's having any contact with Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore's name's mud with the Ministry these days, see. They all think he's just making trouble saying You-Know-Who's back."

"Dad says Fudge has made it clear that anyone who's in league with Dumbledore can clear out their desks."

Genevieve sighed. Fudge was suspicious of her own father.

"Trouble is, Fudge suspects Dad, he knows he's friendly with Dumbledore, and he's always thought Dad's a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession — "

"But what's this got to do with Percy?"

"I'm coming to that. Dad reckons Fudge only wants Percy in his office because he wants to use him to spy on the family — and Dumbledore."

Harry whistled.

"Bet Percy loved that."

"He went completely berserk. He said — well, he said loads of terrible stuff. He said he's been having to struggle against Dad's lousy reputation ever since he joined the Ministry and that Dad's got no ambition and that's why we've always been — you know — not had a lot of money, I mean — "

Genevieve shook her head as Ginny made an angry noise and Harry said, _"What?"_

"I know. And it got worse. He said Dad was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was heading for big trouble and Dad was going to go down with him, and that he — Percy — knew where his loyalty lay and it was with the Ministry. And if Mum and Dad were going to become traitors to the Ministry he was going to make sure everyone knew he didn't belong to our family anymore. And he packed his bags the same night and left. He's living here in London now."

Genevieve just shook her head again, too appalled for words.

"Mum's been in a right state. You know — crying and stuff. She came up to London to try and talk to Percy but he slammed the door in her face. I dunno what he does if he meets Dad at work — ignores him, I suppose."

"But Percy _must_ know Voldemort's back." Harry said, still shocked. "He's not stupid — "

"I beg to differ," Genevieve said.

"Well, he must know your mum and dad wouldn't risk everything without proof — "

"Yeah, well, your name got dragged into the row," Ron said delicately. "Percy said the only evidence was your word and . . . I dunno . . . he didn't think it was good enough."

"The git takes the _Daily Prophet_ seriously," Genevieve said disapprovingly.

"What are you talking about?"

Genevieve pulled at a fray in her sleeve. Hermione decided to tell him.

"Haven't — haven't you been getting the _Daily Prophet_?" she asked warily.

"Yeah, I have!"

"Have you — er — been reading it thoroughly?"

"Not cover to cover. If they were going to report anything about Voldemort it would be headline news, wouldn't it!"

Hermione continued in a rush. "Well, you'd need to read it cover to cover to pick it up, but they — um — they mention you a couple of times a week."

"But I'd have seen — "

"Not if you've only been reading the front page, you wouldn't. I'm not talking about big articles. They just slip you in, like you're a standing joke."

"What d'you —?"

"It's quite nasty, actually," Hermione said, trying to keep her temper. Genevieve bit her lip. "They're just building on Rita's stuff."

"But she's not writing for them anymore, is she?"

Genevieve snorted. "Not if she doesn't want a repeat of our last encounter."

Hermione elaborated. "Oh no, she's kept her promise — not that she's got any choice. But she laid the foundation for what they're trying to do now."

"What is _what_?"

"Okay, you know she wrote that you were collapsing all over the place and saying your scar was hurting and all that?"

"Yeah."

"Well, they're writing about you as though you're this deluded attention-seeking person who thinks he's some great tragic hero or something," she said, ripping the bandage off. "They keep slipping in snide comments about you. If some far-fetched story appears they say something like 'a tale worthy of Harry Potter' and if anyone has a funny accident or anything it's 'let's hope he hasn't got a scar or we'll be asked to worship him next — "

"I don't want anyone to worship — " Harry protested angrily.

"I know you don't," Hermione said hurriedly, trying to avoid another yelling session. "I _know_ , Harry. But you see what they're doing? They want to turn you into someone nobody will believe. Fudge is behind it, I'll believe anything. They want wizards on the street to think you're just some stupid boy who's a bit of a joke, who tells ridiculous tall stories because he loves being famous and wants to keep it going."

"I didn't ask — I didn't want — _Voldemort killed my parents!"_ Harry stammered, shocked and offended. "I got famous because he murdered my family but couldn't kill me! Who wants to be famous for that? Don't they think I'd rather it'd never — "

"We _know_ , Harry," Ginny said.

"And of course, they didn't report a word about the dementors attacking you. Someone's told them to keep that quiet. That should've been a really big story, out-of-control dementors. They haven't even reported that you broke the International Statute of Secrecy — we thought they would, it would tie in so well with this image of you as some stupid show-off —we think they're biding their time until you're expelled, they're really going to go to town — I mean, _if_ you're expelled, obviously, you really shouldn't be, Not if they abide by their own laws, there's no case against you."

There was a moment's silence, broken by the sound of footsteps coming toward them.

"Uh-oh."

The twins gathered their Extendable Ear and Dusapparated. Less than a minute later, Mrs. Weasley appeared.

"The meeting's over, you can come down and have dinner now, everyone's dying to see you, Harry. And who's left all those Dungbombs outside the kitchen door?"

Ginny lied seamlessly. "Crookshanks. He lives playing with them."

Genevieve looked down. Her own cat, Snowflake, was asleep in her lap.

"Oh. I thought it might have been Kreacher, he keeps doing odd things like that. Now don't forget to keep your voices fine in the hall. Ginny, Genevieve, your hands are filthy, what have you two been doing? Go and wash them before dinner, please . . ."

Genevieve sighed and they left the room.

Following a crash caused, for once, by Tonks (Genevieve was glad that she wasn't the only clumsy person around anymore), which caused the late Mrs. Black to start her usual rant again, Genevieve helped set the table. Suddenly, she heard the unmistakable voice of Mrs. Weasley.

"Fred — George — NO, JUST CARRY THEM!"

A collection of food, along with a wooden breadboard with a knife, zoomed toward where Mundungus, Sirius, and Harry had been talking. The three moved away just in time; the knife slipped off the breadboard and stabbed the table at the exact spot Sirius' hand had been mere moments before.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "THERE WAS NO NEED — I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS — JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" Fred said, extracting the knife. "Sorry, Sirius, mate — didn't mean to — "

Sirius and Harry burst out laughing. Genevieve quickly joined it. It had, after all, been a rather comical scene.

"Boys," Mrs. Weasley reprimanded, "your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age — "

" — none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs. Weasley roared. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't Charm everything he met! Percy — "

Everyone froze. Bill broke the silence.

"Let's eat," he said before the moment could last.

"It looks wonderful, Molly," Lupin complimented.

Soon, they were up to their regular dinner time activities, Ginny, Hermione, and Genevieve suggesting different noses for Tonks to try out.

When everyone had finished eating, and Ginny and Genevieve were on the floor, playing with Crookshanks and Snowflake, Mrs. Weasley said, "Nearly time for bed, I think."

"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius said, looking at Harry. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

Genevieve looked up, watching warily what was happening in front of her.

"I did!" Harry said. "I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so — "

Mrs. Weasley interrupted. "And they're quite right. You're too young."

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order to ask questions? Sirius countered. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen — "

"Hang on!" George said, looking appalled at the injustice before him.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" Fred asked.

" _We've_ been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you've told us a single, stinking thing!"

" ' _You're too young, you're not in the Order,' "_ Fred mocked. "Harry's not even of age!"

"It's not my fault you haven been told what the Order's doing," Sirius said. "That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand — "

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" Mrs. Weasley argued (in an undertone, Genevieve whispered to Ginny, "He _is_ still Harry's godfather . . ."), "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?" Sirius said with fake politeness.

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he _needs to know_ ," Mrs. Weasley said.

Everyone's eyes swiveled back and forth between Mrs. Weasley and Sirius, not daring to speak, except for Lupin, who simply stared at Sirius.

"I don't intend to tell him more than he _needs to know_ , Molly. But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back, he has more right than most to — "

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix! He's only fifteen and — "

" — and he's dealt with as much as most in the Order, and more than some — "

"No one's denying what he's done," Mrs. Weasley said, almost yelling now. "But he's still — "

"He's not a child!"

"He's not an adult either!" Mrs. Weasley said dangerously. "He's not _James_ , Sirius!"

Even to Genevieve, this was too far. She backed away from the table slightly, as Sirius said, "I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly."

"I'm not sure you are!" Mrs. Weasley argued. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"What's wrong with that?" Harry asked.

"What's wrong, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, not taking her eyes off Sirius, "is that you are _not_ your father, however much you might look like him! You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!"

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?"

"Meaning you've been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and — "

"We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!" Sirius was getting angry now.

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley turned to her husband for support. "Arthur, back me up!"

Mr. Weasley thought about his reply for a moment before saying, "Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in to a certain extent now that he is staying at headquarters — "

"Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes!"

"Personally," Lupin began, looking at Mrs. Weasley, "I think it better that Harry gets the facts — not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture — from us, rather than a garbled version from . . . others."

Genevieve could have sworn that he knew a few Extendable Ears were still in use.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley sighed, "well . . . I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has got Harry's best interests at heart — "

"He's not your son," Sirius interjected softly.

"He's as good as. Who else has he got?"

"He's got me!"

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley said, an odd smile on her face. "The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"

Sirius began to stand up. Lupin kept the peace.

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry. Sirius, sit _down._ "

Sirius obeyed his friend.

"I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this," Lupin suggested. "He's old enough to decide for himself."

Instantly, Harry said, "I want to know what's been going on." He avoided Mrs. Weasley's eye.

"Very well," Mrs. Weasley said tensely. "Ginny — Ron — Hermione — Fred — George — Genevieve — I want you out of this kitchen, now."

There was mutiny.

"We're of age!" Fred and George exclaimed.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" Ron argued.

"Mum, I _want_ to!" Ginny cried.

Genevieve opened her mouth to protest, but her father caught her eye and shook his head. She fell silent once more.

"NO!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed, on the verge of tears. "I absolutely forbid — "

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George," Mr. Weasley pointed out. "They _are_ of age — "

"They're still at school — "

"But they're legally adults now."

"I — oh, all right, then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron — "

"Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" Ron argued. "Won't — won't you?"

" 'Course I will," Harry replied.

"Fine! Fine! Ginny — BED!"

Mrs. Weasley looked uncertainly at Genevieve's father. He sighed. "I suppose, like Ron pointed out, it would be meaningless not to allow Genevieve to stay; the others will tell her anyway."

Genevieve nodded solemnly and took a seat at the table while Ginny stomped out of the room, grumbling. She set off the portrait of Mrs. Black out of spite. Lupin hurried to quiet it.

Sirius spoke first. "Okay, Harry . . . what do you want to know?"

"Where's Voldemort? What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything — "

"That's because there haven't been any suspicious deaths yet, not as far as we know, anyway . . . And we know quite a bit."

"More than he thinks we do anyway," added Lupin.

"How come he's stopped killing people?"

"Because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself at the moment. It would be quite dangerous for him. His comeback didn't come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."

"Or rather, you messed it up for him," Lupin said.

"How?"

Sirius explained, "You weren't supposed to survive! Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."

Lupin continued. "And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore. And you made sure Dumbledore knew at once."

"How has that helped?"

"Are you kidding?" It was Bill who spoke this time. "Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of!"

"Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix about an hour after Voldemort returned," Sirius said.

"So what's the Order been doing?"

"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans."

"How d'you know what his plans are?"

"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea and Dumbledore's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate."

"So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?"

"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again. In the old days he had huge numbers at his command; witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one group he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."

"So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?"

"We're doing our best," Lupin said wearily.

"How?"

Bill said, "Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard. It's proving tricky, though."

"Why?"

"Because is the Ministry's attitude," Tonks supplied. "You saw Cornelius Fudge after You-Know-Who came back, Harry. Well, he hasn't shifted his position at all. He's absolutely refusing to believe it's happened."

"But why? Why's he being so stupid? If Dumbledore — "

"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," Mr. Weasley said. _"Dumbledore."_

"Fudge is frightened of him, you see," Tonks said.

"Frightened of Dumbledore?"

"Frightened of what he's up to. You see, Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic."

"But Dumbledore doesn't want — "

"Of course he doesn't. He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job."

"Deep down," Lupin said, "Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for her andnadvice. But it seems that he's become fond of power now, and much more confident. He loves being Minister of Magic, and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

"How can he think that? How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up — that _I'd_ make it all up?" Harry asked angrily.

"Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years. Fudge just can bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilize him," Sirius said with a hint of bitterness.

Lupin continued. "You see the problem. While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort, it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they don't really want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the _Daily Prophet_ not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumor-mongering, so most of the Wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."

"But you're telling people, aren't you?" Harry looked desperately at the Order members. "You're letting people know he's back?"

Sirius spoke first. "Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass murder and the Ministry's put a ten-thousand-Galleon Price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?"

Lupin continued the string. "And I'm a not very popular dinner guest with most of the community. It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf."

"Tonks, Arthur, and Noah," Sirius said, indicating Genevieve's father, "would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off, and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them."

"We've managed to convince a couple of people, though," Mr. Weasley said optimistically. "Tonks here, did one — she's too young to have been in the Order last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage — Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset too. He's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet."

"But if none of you's putting the news out that Voldemort's back — "

"Who said none of us was putting the news out? Why d'you think Dumbledore's I'm such trouble?"

"What d'you mean?"

"They're trying to discredit him. Didn't you see the _Daily Prophet_ last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true, he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot — that's the Wizard High Court — And they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care who they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog cards," Bill grinned. Genevieve smiled.

"It's no laughing matter," Mrs. Weasley said. "If he carries on defying the Ministry like this, he could end up in Azkaban and the last thing we want is Dumbledore kicked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's our there and Wise to what he's up to, he's going to go cautiously for a while. If Dumbledore's out of the way — well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field."

"But if Voldemort's trying to recruit more Death Eaters, it's bound to come out that he's come back, isn't it?"

"Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Harry. He tricks, jinxes, and blackmails then. He's well-practiced at operating in secrecy. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in, he's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on them at the moment."

"What's he after apart from followers?"

Lupin and Sirius looked at each other cautiously.

"Stuff he can only get by stealth," Sirius revealed. "Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon? Something worse than the _Avada Kedavra —_?"

Mrs. Weasley intervened, sending the lot of them to bed, and Genevieve and Hermione went upstairs to tell Ginny everything they had learned.


	3. Chapter 3: Perfect Prefects & Head Girl

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

They spent the next few days much as they'd spent their time before Harry arrived: cleaning. They'd managed to rid the house of doxies and numerous unwanted family heirlooms, though Kreacher had tried at every juncture to prevent this. Fred and George had also been collecting a few of the more poisonous bits to experiment with, though Genevieve had vehemently refused to take part in this; she got enough injuries as it was.

Harry seemed to be enjoying the busywork, and everyone was so wrapped up in the current areas of cleaning that it came as an almost total surprise when, during dinner on Wednesday, Mrs. Weasley said to him, "I've ironed your best clothes for tomorrow, Harry, and I want you to wash your hair tonight too. A good first impression can work wonders."

All conversation stopped as everyone watched for Harry's reaction. He simply nodded, though Genevieve could see that he was worried.

"How am I getting there?" he asked.

"Arthur's taking you to work with him."

Harry shot a glance at Sirius, and Mrs. Weasley said, "Professor Dumbledore doesn't think it's a good idea for Sirius to go with you, and I must say I — "

" — think he's _quite right_ ," Sirius finished tensely.

Mrs. Weasley gave a dismayed look but said nothing.

"When did Dumbledore tell you that?"

"He came last night, when you were in bed," Mr. Weasley answered.

Sirius practically impaled his potato. Genevieve grimaced, but said in a joking manner, "What did that poor potato ever do to you?"

He gave a small smile, but his eyes remained fixed to his plate. Harry seemed consumed by thoughts of the hearing.

Genevieve hoped that he'd be acquitted, but she knew Fudge was likely to put up a fight if it meant discrediting Harry. She sighed internally. Sometimes the world just sucked.

•~0~•

Harry and Mr. Weasley were already gone by the time Genevieve and the others had woken up. They most of the morning worrying about his trial.

When Harry returned with the news that he was allowed back at Hogwarts, they celebrated joyously.

"I knew it!" Ron shouted victoriously. "You always get away with stuff!"

"They were bound to clear you," Hermione said, though she was still shaking slightly. "There was no case against you, none at all . . ."

"Everyone seems quite relieved, though, considering they all knew I'd get off," Harry commented, grinning.

"I think they're just glad they don't have to go along with my plan of bewitching the Ministry's own quills against them," Genevieve joked. "Shame. I would've liked to see Percy getting a bit of comeuppance."

Harry laughed, though she didn't know if it was at her words or the fact that Ginny, Fred, and George were dancing rather ridiculously while chanting, _"He got off, he got off, he got off —_ "

"That's enough, settle down!" Mr. Weasley yelled in a tone that conveyed almost convincing warning. "Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry —"

"What?" Sirius asked pointedly.

 _"He got off, he got off, he got off — "_

"Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on level nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know."

"Absolutely," agreed Sirius. "We'll tell him, don't worry."

"Well, I'd better get going, there's a vomiting toilet in Bethnal Green waiting for me. Molly, I'll be late, I'm covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner — "

 _"He got off, he got off, he got off — "_

"That's enough — Fred — George — Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley reprimanded. She turned to Harry. "Harry dear, come and sit down, have some lunch, you hardly ate breakfast . . ."

As everyone settled down and began to fill their plates with food, Ron said, " 'Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you."

"Yeah, he swung it for me," Harry said. He then put his hand to his head as though something hurt.

"What's up?" Hermione asked.

"Scar," Harry said gloomily. "But it's nothing . . . It happens all the time now . . ."

Genevieve gave a sort of half smile that was meant more for Harry's comfort than anything else. The others were blissfully unaware that anything had happened. Ginny, Fred, and George were still chanting.

"I bet Dumbledore turns up this evening to celebrate with us, you know," Ron said.

"I don't think he'll be able to, Ron," Mrs. Weasley told him as she placed food in front of Harry. "He's really very busy at the moment."

 _"HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF, HE GOT OFF — "_

"SHUT UP!" Mrs. Weasley ordered.

Over the next few days, however, it became increasingly obvious that one person was not exceedingly elated at Harry's acquittal: Sirius. While Genevieve spent most of her spare time, which wasn't much, considering they were still cleaning the house, upstairs with Buckbeak, Sirius had been spending more and more time up there with them.

"They've noticed, you know," Genevieve said.

"Noticed what?" Sirius asked dully, still stroking Buckbeak.

"Noticed that you're upset Harry's not going to be living with you full time, of course," Genevieve said impatiently.

Sirius shrugged. "It was silly and selfish to hope."

"It was completely understandable to hope," she corrected. "If I was cooped up in here all day, everyday, you bet I'd be wishing someone was stuck here with me. No offense, but Kreacher's a right pain and your mother's not exactly pleasant."

He grinned for a moment, but soon became sulky once more. "But Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, the twins, even you will be off to Hogwarts again soon and I'll still be here, doing nothing important."

"Because of you, the Order's got a place to convene!" Genevieve reminded. "That's _immensely_ important. And I'll be out there, yes, but you can count on me and the twins to be causing trouble, and I'll do some in your honor, if I have to. Keep Filch on his toes."

Sirius smiled. "It'd just be nice to have some adventure, is all," he said wistfully.

"Ah yes," Genevieve said sarcastically. "The ever familiar feeling that somebody's about to die. How I cherish it."

Sirius chuckled.

"Let's see," Genevieve said. "In the past four years I've known Harry, I've been attacked with a Leg-Locker curse, Petrified, come face to face with a known murderer," she gestured to him, "and seen a dead body. Adventure."

•~0~•

It wasn't until the very last day of the holidays that the booklists arrived. Genevieve, Hermione, and Ginny were in their room. They opened them at the same time, and Genevieve vaguely registered Hermione's squeals and Ginny's comment about the two new books.

She was much too shocked, however, to do anything except stare at the piece of parchment in her hand. Without thinking, Genevieve stood up and followed Hermione to Harry and Ron's room, her mouth still slightly open as she clutched the envelope and letter.

They walked in, and Hermione excitedly said to Harry, who was holding a prefect badge, "Did you — did you get — I knew it! Me too, Harry, me too!"

"No," Harry said. "It's Ron, not me."

"It — what?"

"Ron's prefect, not me," Harry repeated.

 _"Ron?"_ Hermione asked in disbelief. "But . . . are you sure? I mean — ?"

Ron looked slightly hurt. "It's my name on the letter," he said.

"I . . . I . . . well . . . wow! Well done, Ron! That's really — "

"Unexpected," George finished.

"No," Hermione tried to backtrack, "no, it's not . . . Ron's done loads of . . . he really . . ."

Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room, Hogwarts robes in hand.

"Ginny said the booklists had come at last," she said, preoccupied. "If you give them to me I'll take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing. Ron, I'll have to get you more pajamas, these are at least six inches too short, I can't believe how fast you're growing . . . what color would you like?"

"Get him red and gold to match his badge," George said, barely refraining from sniggering.

"Match his what?"

"His _badge._ His lovely shiny new _prefect's badge._ "

It took a second for Fred's words to register. "His . . . but . . . Ron, you're not . . . ?"

Mrs. Weasley squealed with delight. "I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!"

Genevieve snapped out of her stunned state to snort. Mrs. Weasley had forgotten a couple kids.

"What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?" George asked, annoyed.

Mrs. Weasley ignored them. "Wait until your father hears! Ron, I'm so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, it's the first step!"

"Speaking of Head Boy," Fred said. Before Genevieve could stop him, he'd snuck up behind her and grabbed her letter. "Guess who the new Head Girl is?"

Everyone turned to stare at her.

" _Genevieve?"_ George asked, jaw dropping. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I - I didn't want to interrupt," Genevieve stammered.

"How could you?" Fred said, mock offended. "How could you do this to us?"

Genevieve just shook her head, still surprised. Mrs. Weasley had already rushed over to her, dragging Ron with her. "Oh Genevieve, how wonderful! I'm so proud of the both of you! And you too, Hermione!"

She was practically choking them. "Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I'm just thrilled, oh _Ronnie —_ "

Fred and George were doing a rather fantastic re-enactment of their last taste test of Puking Pastilles.

"Mum . . . don't . . . Mum, get a grip . . ." Ron gasped.

She finally pulled away. "Well, what will it be? We have Percy an owl, but you've already got one, of course."

"W-what do you mean?"

"You've got to have a reward for this! How about a nice new set of dress robes?"

"We've already bought him some," Fred said ruefully.

"Or a new cauldron, Charlie's old one's rusting through, or a new rat, you always liked Scabbers —"

"Mum, can I have a new broomstick?"

Mrs. Weasley bit her lip. Broomsticks didn't come cheap.

Ron quickly revised his last statement. "Not a really good one! Just — just a new one for a change . . ."

Mrs. Weasley smiled at him. "Of _course_ you can . . . Well, I'd better get going if I've got a broom to buy too. I'll see you all later . . . Little Ronnie, a prefect! And don't forget to pack your trunks . . . A prefect . . . Oh, I'm all of a dither!"

She kissed Ron again and swept out of the room.

Fred and George smirked. "You don't mind if we don't kiss you, do you, Ron?"

"We could curtsy, if you like," George offered.

"Oh, shut up."

"Or what? Going to put us in detention?"

"I'd love to see him try," George said, laughing.

"He could of you don't watch out!" Hermione threatened, red in the face.

Fred and George cackled. "We're going to have to watch our step, George," Fred said, "with these two and our own best mate on our case . . ."

George shook his head in disbelief. "I still can't believe it. She plans half our pranks, and _she_ gets a badge? Ah well, looks like our law-breaking days are finally over."

And with that, they Disapparated, leaving Genevieve behind.

"I'm — er — going to send an owl to my dad," Genevieve said, hurrying out of the room.

•~0~•

Genevieve packed her trunk fairly quickly after sending the letter, still amazed. Her mind was racing. _How?_ she asked herself. _I wasn't even a prefect._ She definitely didn't know. _I'm not going to be like Percy,_ she told herself resolutely.

When Mrs. Weasley returned, Genevieve took her new books, mumbled a thank-you, and set them down on her trunk to read after dinner. She was eager to read _Defensive Magical Theory,_ because it would give her insight into the new DADA teacher.

When Genevieve walked into the basement, there was a large scarlet banner reading CONGRATULATIONS RON AND HERMIONE — NEW PREFECTS, AND GENEVIEVE — HEAD GIRL. Mrs. Weasley was in a phenomenal mood.

"I though we'd have a little party, not a sit-down dinner," she told them. "Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron, I've sent them both owls and they're _thrilled_." She turned to Genevieve. "Your father is coming now too; he's so proud of you."

Fred made a face at her. She laughed.

Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were waiting for them, while Moody joined shortly after.

"Oh, Alastor, I am glad you're here," Mrs. Weasley said, beaming. "We've been wanting to ask you for ages — could you have a look in the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what's inside it? We haven't wanted to open it just in case it's something really nasty."

"No problem, Molly . . ."

Moody's magical eye peered upstairs. "Drawing room . . . Desk in the corner? Yeah, I see it . . . Yeah, it's a boggart . . . Want me to go up and get rid of it, Molly?"

"No, no, I'll do it myself later. You have your drink. We're having a little bit of a celebration, actually . . ." Moody's eyes traveled to the banner. "Fourth prefect in the family!" Mrs. Weasley said proudly.

"Prefect, eh? Well, congratulations, authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn't have appointed you . . ."

Moody looked at Genevieve. "Same for you. But," he said, almost as though he were remembering something, "if you're anything like your mother, you'll be fine."

Genevieve gaped. "You knew my mother?" She asked, voice trembling. She berated herself internally. Moody was one of the most accomplished ex-Aurors alive. Of course he knew her mother.

" 'Course I knew her," he said impatiently. "One of the finest Aurors I ever trained."

He seemed to want to say more, as he opened his mouth, but at that moment, Mr. Weasley said, "Well, I think a toast is in order. To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor prefects! And to Genevieve, new Head Girl!"

Her father smiled widely.

"I was never a prefect myself," Tonks admitted. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Like the ability to behave myself."

Genevieve and Ginny laughed. Hermione didn't seem to know how to react.

"What about you, Sirius?"

Sirius laughed. "No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge."

Lupin elaborated. "I think Dumbledore might have hoped I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends. I need scarcely say I failed dismally."

Genevieve shook her head. "I just don't understand why I was made Head Girl. I wasn't a prefect, not that I ever wanted to be," she added.

"It's not necessary to be a prefect to end up Head Boy or Girl," Sirius said. "Like I said, James wasn't a prefect. It just took a year or so for his head to deflate a bit, and then _bam!,_ Head Boy."

Genevieve smiled, feeling much more to terms about the whole thing. She even joined in on the usual Mrs. Weasley-Bill debate regarding Bill's long hair.

"I think he looks fine," she said. "If Bill likes it, he likes it."

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips, while Bill grinned.

"I just think it's getting really out of hand," she said, "and you're so good-looking, it would look so much better shorter, wouldn't it, Harry?"

Harry looked uncomfortable, "Oh — I dunno — "

Genevieve was careful to dodge Ron, who was spewing facts about his new broom to anyone in sight. He tried to talk to her, but she held up a hand. "It's great that you got a new broom and all, and you really seem to like it, but telling me about it is like talking to a six-year-old about the Patronus Charm: pointless."

He shrugged and turned to Tonks. In her wandering, she overheard a conversation between Kingsley and Lupin. Kingsley was saying, ". . . why didn't Dumbledore make Potter a prefect?"

"He'll have had his reasons," Lupin answered.

"But if would've shown confidence in him," Kingsley argued. "It's what I'd've done, 'specially with the _Daily Prophet_ having a go at him every few days . . ."

Genevieve frowned. She hadn't considered Harry's feelings in all of this. Both of his best mates had been chosen as prefects, and he was looked over. She felt an upsurge of sympathy for him.

She didn't have time to think more about this, because Moody beckoned her over.

"Come here, I've got something that might interest you."

Genevieve approached him cautiously. Harry was already over there. Moody withdrew from his robes an old photograph.

"Original Order is the Phoenix," he explained. "Found it last night when I was looking for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Podmore hasn't had the manners to return my best one . . . Thought people might like to see it."

Genevieve peered into the picture as Harry took it.

"That's me," Moody said. "And there's Dumbledore beside me, Dedalus Diggle on the other side . . . That's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family. That's Frank and Alice Longbottom — "

 _Neville's parents?_ Genevieve thought. But Neville lived with his grandmother . . . _Were they dead?_

"Poor devils," Moody continued grimly. "Better dead than what happened to them . . . and that's Emmeline Vance, you've both met her, and there's Lupin, obviously . . . Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him . . . shift aside there." The front row of people moved over.

"That's Edgar Bones, brother of Amelia Bones, they got him and his family too, he was a great wizard . . . Sturgis Podmore, blimey, he looks young . . . Caradoc Dearborn, vanished six months after this, we never found his body . . . Hagrid, of course, looks exactly the same as ever . . . Elphias Doge, you've met him, I'd forgotten he used to wear that stupid hat . . . Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes . . . budge along, budge along . . ."

Still more people moved over to make room for the others.

"That's Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, only time I ever met him, strange bloke . . . That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally . . . Here she is, Allie Snow." Moody looked at Genevieve. "Damn brave Auror. She put up a good fight, protecting you. Smartest witch of her time, too . . ."

Genevieve swallowed. She clutched at her locket, inside which was a picture of infant her and her mother. Moody was still muttering to Harry.

"Sirius, when he still had short hair . . . and . . . there you go, though that would interest you!"

James and Lily Potter sat, smiling widely, Wormtail in the middle of them.

"Eh?" Moody said.

"Yeah," Harry said, faking a smile. "Er . . . listen, I've just remembered, I haven't packed my . . ."

"What's that you've got there, Mad-Eye?"

Harry practically bolted as Mad-Eye replied. Breathing deeply to steady herself, Genevieve walked over to her father, who beamed at her.

"So proud of you . . . your mother was a prefect, but, blimey, Gen, Head Girl . . ."

•~0~•

 **A/N: It was a really spontaneous decision to make Genevieve Head Girl, but I thought it would add a bit of emotion to the chapter, and the book never specified who was Head Girl or Boy. This won't be a prominent storyline, as I have no clue what Head Girls do aside from tell the prefects to patrol on the Hogwarts Express, but it will be mentioned occasionally.**


	4. Chapter 4: The Head Girl’s Orders

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

It was a struggle that morning to get to King's Cross on time, what with Fred and George's flying trunks knocking Ginny down two flights of stairs, Podmore being a no-show to help escort Harry, and Sirius, against Dumbledore's wishes, accompanying them to the station, but even though they arrived just as the train began to take off, Genevieve felt they were far too early.

With one deep and bracing sigh, she slid open the door to the prefect carriage. A short conversation with the Head Boy, a Hufflepuff she didn't know, told Genevieve this year's responsibilities would lay solely with her.

Once all the prefects had filed into the compartment (including Ron, Hermione, and, to her disgust, Malfoy), she addressed them.

"Welcome to what I hope will be a successful year. If you are in this room, it means that you have been trusted with the responsibility of looking after the student body at Hogwarts. You have to authority to issue punishments to misbehaving students under the assumption that you will be unbiased and fair."

Malfoy yawned importantly, causing his Slytherin counterpart, Pansy Parkinson to giggle.

"Do you have something to contribute, Malfoy?" Genevieve asked, eyebrow raised.

He smirked and rolled his eyes. "Well, I just think it's obvious that I shouldn't have to listen to your droning when everyone knows who my family is, and the quality of my family compared to . . . others."

He looked arrogantly at Hermione, and Genevieve worked to keep her temper in check.

"Yes, well, I am quite sorry to say that not everyone can belong to a family of cowards and simply bribe their way everywhere."

Ron choked back a laugh, and even Hermione hid her mouth behind her hand. Malfoy reddened slightly. Parkinson and the sixth year Slytherin prefects glowered at Genevieve.

"You may mock now," Malfoy said menacingly, "but I would watch my back if I were you. You Muggle-lovers and your Mudblood friends won't see it coming!"

"Yes, I am just _shaking_ with fear. Now shut up."

Unable to think of a retort, the Slytherins all settled for glaring at Genevieve as she continued.

"Now, you do have the power to assign punishments, but as some of you have demonstrated a sense of untrustworthiness, I feel it also necessary to say that I will be monitoring each of you to ensure that no one abuses their position.

"As for right now, you are to patrol the corridors every so often, and, should the situation arise, give out punishments. I think now would be a good time for you to get to know your fellow prefects, as you will be working together this year."

Not taking her advice, each house's prefects grouped together, the Slytherins staring daggers at Genevieve. Hermione smiled at her, and Ron looked particularly pleased.

"That was bloody brilliant, Genevieve!" he said. "With you as Head Girl, Malfoy and his goons won't be to get away with anything!"

"That goes for you too, Ron," Genevieve said. "I expect you to be completely fair when the students are under your responsibility."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, unconcerned.

Genevieve shook her head, grinning, and gave one last announcement to the group.

"I reckon this is a good time for you lot to go ahead and start patrolling the corridors. Once you are done, you may return to your individual compartments, so long as you patrol periodically. You are dismissed."

And, after a quick check that all of the prefects were doing just that (and reprimanding Malfoy for attempting to bully a couple of first years), Genevieve joined Fred, George, Katie, and Lee in their compartment.

•~0~•

Genevieve stood in the Great Hall, supervising the arrival of the students, and looking for Hagrid. She hadn't seen the half-giant yet, and he was usually very hard to miss. Instead, Professor Grubbly-Plank had fulfilled the task of escorting the first years across the lake. Genevieve hoped that nothing had happened to him on his mission over the summer.

Once everyone had sat down, Genevieve joined Fred, George, Katie, and Lee at the Gryffindor table to watch to the Sorting. Every year, the Sorting Hat's song was different, but this year, it was extremely different. It was almost as though the Sorting Hat knew what was going on outside Hogwarts. It advised the students to band together as one and not let silly things like houses divide them.

Once the Sorting had finished, and all the students had eaten, Dumbledore stood to make his annual beginning of the year speech.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices. First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students — and a few of our older students ought to know by now too.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons," Genevieve bit her lip; was Hagrid really not teaching this year? "We are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

A remarkably toad-resembling woman sat at the staff table, wearing a revolting pink cardigan. So this was the teacher who'd assigned that disgusting excuse for a book, which Genevieve had read the night before. _Defensive Magical Theory_ rivaled Lockhart's books in uselessness. It focused entirely on the theory of defensive magic as opposed to the practical side of it. Genevieve wondered if Umbridge would follow her book or common sense.

Dumbledore continued. "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the — "

Professor Umbridge, a new teacher, had interrupted Dumbledore with a sickening, " _Hem, hem,_ " and he sat down. The other teachers looked shocked and appalled. Umbridge stood up and prepared to lecture.

"Thank you, Headmaster," she said in a girlish, breathy voice, "for those kind words of welcome. Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!"

Genevieve surveyed the Hall. No one looked "happy." In fact, they looked offended at being talked to in this manner. Umbridge pressed on, occasionally " _Hem, hem,_ "-ing as more and more students refused to listen to her.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

There were titters.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and bones by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Professor Umbridge did a ridiculous little bow to her colleagues. Not a single one reciprocated it.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress' sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation . . ."

The majority of the student body had stopped paying attention by this point, but Genevieve mustered up every bit of stamina she'd accumulated through years of Professor Binns' classes and listened closely, her eyebrows raising slightly higher with every sentence Umbridge spoke.

". . . because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent in preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

Dumbledore applauded, and the staff followed his example, though much less enthusiastically. Very few students clapped. Genevieve was not one of them. Dumbledore began to speak again.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating. Now — as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held . . ."

Soon after, Genevieve was helping prefects direct first years to their respective common rooms, making sure to keep an eye on Malfoy, who seemed to be enjoying power very much. She noticed several students of all ages were being careful to avoid Harry's eye, or just plain staring at him.

"What are you doing that for?" she admonished them. "He's a student at this school, not an axe-wielding maniac. Now keep going; you're holding up the rest of us."

Sadly, Genevieve found the need to repeat this sentiment several times over the next few days, and it still had next to no effect. _If only Sirius was here_ , she thought wistfully, _then I could actually show them a crazed murderer._


	5. Chapter 5: Classes With a Toad

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Genevieve sat in the Umbridge's room, waiting for the rest of the class to file in. When they all had, Umbridge greeted them as though they were four.

"Well, good morning!"

"Good morning," a fraction of the class murmured halfheartedly.

"Tut, tut. _That_ won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good morning, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good morning, class!"

Several people rolled their eyes, but they repeated, much like mindless zombies, "Good morning, Professor Umbridge."

"There, now. That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

The class gave a collective sigh as they obeyed. Umbridge tapped her wand against the blackboard, words appearing instantly.

 _Defense Against the Dark Arts_

 _A Return to Basic Principles_

"Well now," she simpered, "your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it? The constant changing teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your N.E.W.T. year.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

Once again, the blackboard filled with words.

 _Course aims:_

 _1\. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic._

 _2\. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used._

 _3\. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use._

Genevieve hastily scribbled down the course aims. When they had all finished, Umbridge cooed, "Has everybody got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

There were mumbles in the affirmative.

"I think we'll try that again. When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, 'Yes, Professor Umbridge' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So, has everyone got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," they said dully.

"Good. I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk."

Genevieve's hand shot up.

"Yes, Miss — "

"Snow," she replied. "I've already read chapter one."

If Umbridge was shocked, she did a good job of hiding it.

"You have? Well, then, read chapter two."

"I've already read the entire book, Professor. I always read my coursework beforehand. But I disagree with the majority of this book."

Umbridge raised her eyebrows. "Well, Miss Snow, I am afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard's opinion and not yours that matters within this classroom."

"Professor, I can show you countless studies in which it is clearly shown that students tend to learn better in an environment in which they feel respected and their opinions appreciated. And I do believe you would like to see us succeed on our N.E.W.T.s at the end of this year?"

"Y-Yes." Umbridge stammered, taken aback. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Snow."

"What for?" Fred said angrily.

"Students will raise their hands in my classroom if they wish to speak, Mr. — "

"Weasley."

Genevieve raised her hand again.

"Yes, Miss Snow?"

"Well, I also noticed in your course aims that you don't plan on us using defensive spells."

The class rushed to reread the course aims, looking indignant.

" _Using_ defensive spells?" Umbridge laughed as if this was an absurd idea. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to _use_ a defensive spell, Miss Snow. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"No, but there _is_ a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T."

The class' heads were swiveling back and forth between the two; they had never known Genevieve to argue with a teacher.

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions."

"Professor, can you produce a corporeal Patronus?" Genevieve asked.

"Yes," Umbridge said coldly. "I see no relevance in your question, Miss Snow."

"I do," Genevieve replied bluntly. "If you will allow me to continue; were you able to produce a corporeal Patronus on your first attempt? Surely, if you believe in theory so strongly, you must have studied the theory before attempting it."

Professor Umbridge eyed her beadily. "Another ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Snow. I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough — "

It was George who spoke this time. "And how's theory going to help us in the real world?"

"Your _hand_ , Mr. Weasley." Genevieve didn't know if Umbridge was bright enough to assume that, as twins, they shared a last name or too dim to realize that there were two of them. "This is school, not the real world."

Genevieve's hand shot up. Umbridge ignored her. Angelina raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss — ?"

"Johnson. Isn't the entire point of a Defense Against the Dark Arts class to learn how to defend ourselves in the real world?"

"And what do you believe could possibly be waiting for you in the real world?"

Fred raised his hand.

"Aurors exist for a reason. And it's better to be prepared than clueless and vulnerable."

"That is _quite enough._ " Umbridge said, all politeness dissolving. "Anyone who wishes to continue this discussion can see me in detention. Please continue reading chapter one. Miss Snow, reread it."

Seething, Genevieve slammed open her book, flipping pages periodically, too furious to read. _I'll talk to McGonagall about this_ , she thought. _Surely she'll understand._

•~0~•

"Snow, you need to be careful."

Genevieve blinked. She was sitting in McGonagall's office, having just told her what had happened in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and she had been expecting an entirely different response.

"As I have already told Potter, misbehavior in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost you so much more than house points."

Genevieve flashed back to Umbridge's speech. "I understand, Professor. I just — someone should put her in her place."

Professor McGonagall stood up. Genevieve could have sworn she saw the professor smile at that statement. "And it should not be you, Snow."

She opened the door and motioned her out.

And so, Genevieve kept her anger bottled in Umbridge's classes, often venting instead to Hermione or Myrtle.

One day, she said wistfully to Hermione, "I just wish we had someone to actually teach us how to defend ourselves against the Dark Arts."

Hermione's eyes widened. "That's brilliant! Hold on, I've just got to talk to Harry; I'm sure I can talk him into it!"

Genevieve smiled. "I hope you can, Hermione, or there's no way I'm passing this N.E.W.T."


	6. Chapter 6: In the Meantime

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Genevieve sat alone in the corner of the common room opposite the twins and Lee, doing homework. They were, however, testing Fainting Fancies on a group of first years. Hermione was glaring at them.

When the prefect marched over, Genevieve packed up her belongings as quick as she could and made a run for it.

"That's enough!" Hermione said angrily.

"Yeah, you're right," George agreed, "this dosage looks strong enough, doesn't it?"

"I told you this morning, you can't test your rubbish on students!"

"We're paying them!"

"I don't care, it could be dangerous!"

"Rubbish."

Genevieve had almost made it out of the room when Fred exclaimed, "Genevieve! You're Head Girl; what do you think?"

Genevieve shook her head in defeat. She turned to the twins in Lee.

"Did you tell them what the Skiving Snackboxes were going to do?"

"Well, no," Fred admitted, "but we're paying them, and they've all signed up of their own free will!"

She turned to Hermione. "And you've told them not to do this?"

"Yes," Hermione sniffed.

"Well . . ." Genevieve bit her lip. "Don't use it on the first years, inform your testers of what you're doing, but as long as they're aware of the risks, there are no long-term consequences, they volunteered, and you're paying them, I don't see a problem with it. Sound fair?"

Both parties mumbled agreement. The first years were coming to now.

"Feel all right?" George gently asked one of them.

"I-I think so," she replied.

"Excellent!"

It was as though Genevieve had never said anything.

"It is NOT excellent!" Hermione exploded.

" 'Course it is, they're alive, aren't they?"

"You can't do this, what if you made one of them really ill?"

"We're not going to make them ill, we've already tested them all on ourselves, this is just to make sure everyone reacts the same — "

"If you don't stop doing it, I'm going to — "

"Put us in detention?" Fred challenged.

"Make us write lines?" sniggered George.

Hermione seemed to emanate a sense of power. "No, but I will write to your mother," she threatened.

Genevieve took a long step back; this was getting dirty.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, yes, I would. I can't stop you eating the stupid things yourselves, but you're not giving them to first years."

She stalked away.

"I'm just . . . gonna go," Genevieve said, and she ran off.

•~0~•

A few days later, there was an article in the _Daily Prophet_ about Sirius being spotted in London, which worried Genevieve, and Sturgis Podmore, the Order member who had failed to show up on September 1st to escort Harry, had been caught trying to break into a door in the Department of Mysteries on August 31st. _That would explain why he wasn't there to guard Harry,_ Genevieve thought grimly. _But why was he trying to break into the Department of Mysteries?_

That Sunday night, Genevieve was still working on homework in the common room, which was extensive, even for N.E.W.T. year. An owl flew into the window for Ron, looking suspiciously like Percy's owl, Hermes. When the others had confirmed it was from him, Genevieve had grouped around them, unable to resist the temptation of finding out what the git had to say. Ron passed over the letter, looking disgusted.

 _Dear Ron,_

 _I have only just heard (from no less a person than the Minister of Magic himself, who has it from your new teacher, Professor Umbridge) that you have become a Hogwarts prefect._

 _I was most pleasantly surprised when I heard this news and must firstly offer my congratulations. I must admit that I have always been afraid that you would take what we call the "Fred and George" route, rather than following in my footsteps, so you can imagine my feelings on hearing you have stopped flouting authority and have decided to shoulder some real responsibility, especially since other prefects and Head students may be less inclined to do so. I am speaking, of course, of Genevieve Snow, whom I hear is a horrendous Head Girl, and which does not surprise me, as she never had much respect for authority herself._

"Sure I did," Genevieve said through gritted teeth, remembering Charlie's words from years ago. "Just not for you. You could learn some things from Fred and George, like loyalty and not being a pompous prat."

Ron snorted. She kept reading.

 _But I want to give you more than congratulations, Ron, I want to give you some advice, which is why I am sending this at night rather than by the usual morning post. Hopefully you will be able to read this away from prying eyes and avoid awkward questions._

 _From something the Minister let slip when telling me you are a prefect, I gather that you still seeing a lot of Harry Potter. I must tell you, Ron, that nothing could put you in danger of losing your badge more than continued fraternization with that boy. Yes, I am sure you are surprised to hear this — no doubt you will say that Potter has always been Dumbledore's favorite — but I feel bound to tell you that Dumbledore may not be in charge at Hogwarts much longer and the people who count have a very different — and probably more accurate — view of Potter's behavior. I shall say no more here, but if you look at the_ Daily Prophet _tomorrow you will get a good idea of the way the wind is blowing — and see if you can spot yours truly!_

 _Seriously, Ron, you do not want to be tarred with the same brush as Potter, it could be very dangerous to your future prospects, and I am talking here about life after school too. As you must be aware, given that our father escorted him to court, Potter had a disciplinary hearing this summer in front of the whole Wizengamot and he did not come out of it looking too good. He got off on a mere technicality if you ask me and many of the people I've spoken to remain convinced of his guilt._

 _It may be that you are afraid to sever ties with Potter — I know that he can be unbalance and, for all I know, violent — but if you have any worried about this, or have spotted anything else in Potter's behavior that is troubling you, I urge you to speak to Dolores Umbridge, a really delightful woman, who I know will be only too happy to advise you._

"She's about as pleasant as the toad she looks, but I suppose you two _do_ get along well," Genevieve said snidely.

 _This leads me to my other bit of advice. As I have hinted above, Dumbledore's regime at Hogwarts may soon be over. Your loyalty, Ron, should not be to him, but to the school and the Ministry. I am very sorry to hear that so far Professor Umbridge is encountering very little cooperation from staff as she strives to make those necessary changes within Hogwarts that the Ministry so ardently desires (although she should find this easier from next week — again, see the_ Prophet _tomorrow!). I shall say only this — a student who shows himself willing to help Professor Umbridge now may be well placed for Head Boyship in a couple of years, and I trust they would do a much better job of it than others (Snow comes to mind)!_

 _I am sorry that I was unable to see more of you over the summer. I pains me to criticize our parents, but I am afraid I can no longer live under their roof while they remained mixed up with the dangerous crowd around Dumbledore (if you are writing to Mother at any point, you might want to tell her that a certain Sturgis Podmore, who is a great friend of Dumbledore's, has recently been sent to Azkaban for trespass at the Ministry. Perhaps that will open their eyes to the kind of petty criminals with whom they are currently rubbing shoulders). I count myself very lucky to have escaped the stigma of associations with such people — the Minister really could not be more gracious to me — and I do hope, Ron, that you will not allow family ties to blind you to the misguided nature of our parents' belief and actions either. I sincerely hope that, in time, they will realize how mistaken they were and I shall, of course, be ready to accept a full apology when that day comes._

 _Please think over what I have said most carefully, particularly the bit about Harry Potter, and congratulations again on becoming prefect._

 _Your brother,_

 _Percy_

"As a 'horrendous Head Girl', I do hope you're planning on defying every sentence in this," Genevieve said to Ron.

Harry looked up, having also finished reading.

"Well, if you want to — er — what is it?" (He consulted the paper.) "Oh yeah — 'sever ties' with me, I swear I won't get violent."

"Give it back," Ron said. He began to rip Percy's letter numerous times as he spoke. "He is — the world's — biggest — _git._ " He tossed the torn pieces in the fire.

They resumed homework, though Genevieve was still fuming about Percy's arrogance and the unfairness of it all. _'I know that he can be unbalanced and, for all I know, violent'?_ He certainly didn't seem to think that a few years before, when he'd nearly ripped Harry's arm off in a zest to shake the Boy Who Lived's hand. She'd never liked him, but this was absolutely ridiculous. Percy never thought; he just adopted the opinion of whomever he idolized most at the moment.

Genevieve glanced up. Harry was kneeling in front of the fire.

"Er — Harry?" Ron asked for her. "Why are you down there?"

"Because I've just seen Sirius's head in the fire," Harry said as though it happened all the time. Genevieve knew that it had happened at least once before; she'd caught it that time too.

"Sirius's head?" Hermione said doubtfully. "You mean like when he wanted to talk to you during the Triwizard Tournament? But he wouldn't do that now, it would be too — _Sirius_!"

Genevieve approached the fire, where Sirius's head sat quite merrily.

"I was starting to think you'd go to bed before everyone else had disappeared," he said to Harry. "I've been checking every hour."

"You've been popping into the fire every hour?" Harry asked, amused.

"But what if you'd been seen?" Hermione admonished worriedly.

"Well, I think a girl — first year by the look of her — might've for a glimpse of me earlier, but don't worry," he added, mostly for Hermione. "I was gone the moment she looked back at me and I'll bet she just thought I was an oddly shaped log or something."

"But Sirius, this is taking an awful risk — "

"You sound like Molly," Sirius said. "This was the only way I could come up with of answering Harry's letter without resorting to a code — and codes are breakable."

The two prefects rounded on Harry.

"You didn't say you'd written to Sirius!" Hermione said.

"I forgot," Harry said sheepishly.

Hermione glared at him.

"Okay, all of you, shut up and let's listen to Sirius," Genevieve said. "The longer he's here, the riskier it's going to get, Hermione."

"Right," Sirius said. "Your scar. Well, I know it can't be fun when it hurts, but we don't think it's anything to really worry about. It kept aching all last year, didn't it?"

"Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion. So maybe he was just, I dunno, really angry or something the night I had that detention."

"Well, now he's back it's bound to hurt more often."

"So you don't think it had anything to do with Umbridge touching me when I was in detention with her?"

"I doubt it. I know her by reputation and I'm sure she's no Death Eater — "

"She's foul enough to be one," Harry commented sourly. Genevieve and the others nodded their agreement rather enthusiastically.

"Yes, but the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. I know she's a nasty piece of work, though — you should hear Remus talk about her."

"Does Lupin know her?"

"No, but she drafted a bit of anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that makes it almost impossible for him to get a job."

Genevieve scowled. Another reason to the mounting list of why to hate Umbridge, Percy liking her being near the top, naturally.

"What's she got against werewolves?" Hermione demanded furiously.

"Scared of them, I expect. Apparently she loathes part-humans; she campaigned to have merpeople rounded up and tagged last year too. Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose — "

"Sirius!" Hermione reprimanded. "Honestly, if you made — "

"So what were you saying, Sirius?" Genevieve said loudly. Sirius smiled thankfully at her.

"I was going to ask what Umbridge's lessons are like. Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?"

"She should," Genevieve said darkly. "I might just turn it around on her. She certainly looks the part."

"No," Harry answered. "She's not letting us use magic at all!"

"Ah, well, that figures. Our information from inside the Ministry is that Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat."

 _"Trained in combat?"_ Harry said disbelievingly. "What does he think we're doing here, forming some kind of wizard army?"

Genevieve snorted. How ridiculous would that be?

"That's exactly what he thinks you're doing," Sirius replied, "or rather, that's exactly what he's afraid Dumbledore is doing — forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic."

There was a moment's silence in which everyone marveled at the new depths Fudge's stupidity seemed to have reached. Ron said it.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, including all the stuff that Luna Lovegood comes out with."

Genevieve smiled; she too had heard tale of Luna's Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.

Hermione looked enraged. "So we're being prevented from learning Defense Against the Dark Arts because Fudge is scared we'll use spells against the Ministry?"

"Yep. Fudge thinks Dumbledore will stop at nothing to seize power. He's getting more paranoid about Dumbledore by the day. It's a matter of time before he has Dumbledore arrested on some trumped-up charge."

"D'you know if there's going to be anything about Dumbledore in the _Daily Prophet_ tomorrow? Only Ron's brother Percy reckons there will be — "

"I don't know," Sirius said with gloom to rival Myrtle, "I haven't seen anyone from the Order all weekend, they're all busy. It's just been Kreacher and me here . . ."

"That sounds horrible," Genevieve said.

Hermione scowled at her.

"You have to admit, Kreacher can get on your nerves. You wanted equality for house-elves; I'm regarding him just like I do people. There are pains in every species."

"So you haven't had any news about Hagrid, either?" Harry asked, getting back on topic.

"Ah . . . well, he was supposed to be back by now, no one's sure what's happened to him." Genevieve's face contorted in anxiety. "But Dumbledore's not worried," Sirius hastened to add, "so don't you four get yourselves in a state; I'm sure Hagrid's fine."

Hermione gave volume to the voice of worry in Genevieve's head. "But if he was supposed to be back by now . . ."

"Madame Maxime was with him, we've been in touch with her and she says they got separated on the journey home — but there's nothing to suggest he's hurt or — well, nothing to suggest he's not perfectly okay. Listen, don't go asking too many questions about Hagrid," Sirius warned, "it'll just draw even more attention to the fact that he's not back, and I know Dumbledore doesn't want that. Hagrid's tough, he'll be okay.

"When's your next Hogsmeade weekend anyway? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn't we? I thought I could — "

"NO!" Harry and Hermione exclaimed together. Genevieve bit her lip. She knew it was dangerous, but she also understood how frustrating it must be for him, stuck in that house.

"Sirius, didn't you see the _Daily Prophet_?"

"Oh that," Sirius said, unconcerned, "they're always guessing where I am, they haven't really got a clue — "

"Yeah, but we think this time they have," Harry told Sirius. "Something Malfoy said on the train made us think he knew it was you, and his father was on the platform, Sirius — you know, Lucius Malfoy — so don't come up here, whatever you do, if Malfoy recognizes you again — "

"Sirius," Genevieve interrupted before Sirius had a chance to, "I know you hate being in that wretched house, I get it, and we all wish we could see you too, but they clearly don't want to risk it, not even if we were careful . . ."

She said this last bit slowly, as though hoping one of the others would give in and they could work out a plan, but none came. Genevieve sighed.

"I'm really sorry, you've got to know I am."

He smiled sadly at her. "All right, all right, I've got the point," he looked very disappointed. "Just an idea, thought you might like to get together — "

"I would," interjected Harry, "I just don't want you chucked back in Azkaban!"

Sirius seemed to be regarding Harry in an entirely new light. "You're less like your father than I thought," he said at last, his tone much less warmly than usual. "The risk would've been what made it fun for James."

"Look — "

"Well, I'd better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs. I'll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?"

"Sirius, I know you pulled that excuse out of you arse — " Genevieve started, but he was already gone.


	7. Chapter 7: Do Something

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

"I can't believe this," Genevieve said, still poring over the newspaper as though there was a typo. It still proudly displayed the words:

 **MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM** **DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER "HIGH INQUISITOR"**

Hermione looked similarly furious, almost to the point of hyperventilating. "So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this 'Educational Decree' and forced her on us! And now he's given her to power to inspect other teachers! I can't believe this. It's _outrageous . . ._ "

"I know it is," agreed Harry, glancing at his hand, on which was carved _I must not tell lies._ When Genevieve had first learned of what happened in Umbridge's detentions, it had taken all three fifth years to restrain her from marching up to the toad and murdering her right then.

"That slimy little frog," Genevieve muttered angrily.

Ron, to their surprise, was smiling.

"What?" they asked in unison.

"Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," he said with glee. "Umbridge won't know what's hit her."

Genevieve's eyes widened with delight. "I _hope_ that's during my class."

•~0~•

Genevieve, George, Fred, and Lee were heading toward the Gryffindor table for lunch when they overheard Harry, Hermione, and Ron talking about grading.

"I got a P," Ron admitted. "Happy?"

"Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of," Fred assured. "Nothing wrong with a good healthy P."

"But," Hermione said, "doesn't P stand for . . ."

" 'Poor,' yeah," Lee supplied. "Still, better than a D, isn't it? 'Dreadful'?"

Genevieve shuddered. She saw Harry try to hide his reaction in a sudden coughing fit.

"I wouldn't worry about it," she said quickly. "Snape always grades harshly, and it'll get easier over time."

"Easy for you to say," Fred snorted. "You always got E's and O's."

"So," Hermione said, looking for confirmation, "top grade's O for 'Outstanding,' and then there's A — "

"No, E," George said, "E for 'Exceeds Expectations.' And I've always thought Fred and I should've got E in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams."

They all laughed, except for Hermione, who, ignoring the lot of them, continued.

"So after E, it's A for 'Acceptable,' and that's the last pass grade, isn't it?"

"Yep," Fred confirmed, sloppily submerging his roll in his soup, stuffing the entire thing in his mouth, and swallowing without chewing.

"You're revolting, you know that, don't you?" Genevieve said conversationally.

"Then you get P for 'Poor' and D for 'Dreadful,' " Ron said.

"And then T," George completed.

"T?" Hermione asked, astonished there could be lesser grades. "Even lower than a D? What on earth does that stand for?"

" 'Troll,' " George answered.

"You lot had an inspected lesson yet?" Fred said.

"No," Hermione said instantly, "have you?"

"Just now, before lunch. Charms."

"What was it like?" both Harry and Hermione asked.

"Not that bad. Umbridge just lurked in the corner making notes on a clipboard. You know what Flitwick's like, he treated her like a guest, didn't seem to bother him at all. She didn't say much. Asked Alicia a couple of questions about what the classes are like, Alicia told her they were really good, that was it. Oh, and Genevieve ran into Umbridge," Fred added, smirking.

 _"What?"_ They all looked at her in surprise. Genevieve shrugged.

"You can't've thought I was just going to let that _cow_ get away with everything, did you? I had to do _something._ And, well," Genevieve gestured to her limbs, which she had broken on several occasions, "I had a built-in excuse. So I just stumbled, dropped a couple books, and rammed straight into her. If I'm lucky, I broke one of her claws."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at her in awe. Fred, Lee, and George looked particularly pleased.

"I just said some rubbish like, 'I'm so sorry, I'm a complete klutz, this happens all the time,' grabbed my things, and walked out. She couldn't've done anything. Madam Pomfrey can prove my case a hundred times over."

Genevieve smiled almost evilly.

"You're — a — bloody — genius!" Ron said, applauding her. The others soon joined in.

"Anyway," Genevieve said, "I reckon Flitwick's going to be fine."

"Yeah," George concurred, "I can't see old Flitwick getting marked down, he usually gets everyone through their exams all right."

"Who've you got this afternoon?" Fred asked Harry.

"Trelawney — "

"A T if I ever saw one — "

" — and Umbridge herself."

Genevieve grimaced. "Good luck."

"Thanks," he said dryly.

"Well, be a good boy and keep your temper with Umbridge today," instructed George. "Angelina'll do her nut if you miss anymore Quidditch practices."

"And if you ever need to see Umbridge brought back down to earth," Genevieve said, "I figure my reputation precedes me."

•~0~•

Harry had gone and landed himself in detention with Umbridge again. Though she considered Angelina's rage (as Quidditch captain, there was a certain level of infuriation to be associated with one of your team in detention for two weeks and therefore unable to train with the rest of the team) to be punishment enough, Genevieve couldn't help regarding him a bit reproachfully when he returned from detention Tuesday night. At Genevieve's suggestion, Hermione had prepared a bowl of murtlap essence for his hand.

"Here," Hermione said, giving to bowl to him, "soak your hand in that, it's a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, it should help."

Trusting the both of them and willing to try anything to make what could only be immense pain stop, Harry stuck his hand in the bowl. His face calmed in relief.

"Thanks," he said.

"You shouldn't've lost your temper with Umbridge," Genevieve admonished.

"You sound like McGonagall," Harry muttered.

"And she was right!" Genevieve said. "It's not only dangerous to do so, but it's only hurting you!"

She motioned to his hand pointedly.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," Ron said.

"No," said Harry defiantly.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew — " Ron pressed on when Genevieve nodding vigorously.

"Yeah, she probably would." Harry continued bitterly, "And how long d'you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

"She's an awful woman," Hermione said furiously. " _Awful._ You know, I was just saying to Ron and Gen when you came in . . . we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison," Ron piped up.

Genevieve shook her head. "Far too peaceful. I say we set Peeves on her."

"No . . ." Hermione said, "I mean something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any defense from her at all."

Genevieve remembered their conversation from days prior and hoped Hermione would be able to persuade Harry.

"Well, what can we do about that?" Ron asked. " 'S too late, isn't it? She got the job, she's here to stay, Fudge'll make sure of that."

"Well," Hermione said, as though testing the waters. "You know, I was thinking today . . ." Genevieve shot her a look. "Okay, I've been thinking for several days that — ," she glanced at Harry, " — maybe the time's come when we should just — just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" Harry asked, a suspicious expression on his face.

"Well — learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves," Hermione clarified.

"Come off it," Ron moaned. "You want us to do extra work? D'you realize Harry and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week?"

"But this is much more important than homework!" Hermione exclaimed.

The other two stared incredulously at her. Genevieve shook her head.

"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework," Ron breathed.

"Don't be silly, of course there is!" Hermione said passionately. "It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting out there. It's about making sure we can really defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year — "

"We can't do much by ourselves," Ron said. "I mean, all right, we can go and look up jinxes in the library and try to practice them, I suppose — "

"There's only so much you can learn from a book," Genevieve said.

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books. We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."

"If you're talking about Lupin . . ." Harry said, getting entirely the wrong idea.

"Speed this along, Hermione," Genevieve urged.

"No, no, I'm not talking about Lupin. He's too busy with the Order and anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that's not nearly often enough."

"Who, then?" Harry asked, looking puzzled.

"How can you be this thick?" Genevieve wondered aloud, staring at Harry.

Hermione sighed deeply. "Isn't it obvious? I'm talking about _you_ , Harry."

No one spoke for a second. Everyone was watching for Harry's reaction.

"About me what?" Harry asked.

"I'm talking about _you_ teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry simply looked at Hermione, baffled. He glanced at Ron, and Genevieve understood. It would be so much easier to sway Harry if Ron, his best mate, was on their side. Ron considered the proposal for a second, thinking hard.

"That's an idea." He finally said. Genevieve smiled.

"What's an idea?"

"You," Ron said simply. "Teaching us how to do it."

"But . . ."

Harry grinned, as though he were certain the three of them were tricking him somehow. It was a joke.

"But I'm not a teacher, I can't — "

"Harry, you're the best in our year at Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Who are you kidding, Hermione?" Genevieve asked. "He's the best in the school; the kids in my year couldn't do half the stuff he's done."

"Me?" Harry's grin widened. "No, I'm not, Genevieve, you're the brightest witch in the school, and Hermione, you've beaten me in every test — "

"Actually, I haven't." Hermione's voice had an unmistakable coolness in it. "You beat me in our third year — the only year we both took the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, Harry. Look what you've _done_!"

"How d'you mean?"

"You know what, I'm not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me," Ron told the others, smirking.

Genevieve snorted. "Agreed."

Ron went on. "Let's think. Uh . . . first year — you saved the Stone from You-Know-Who."

"But that was luck," Harry protested, "that wasn't skill — "

"Second year, you killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle."

"Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up I — "

"Third year," Ron said, continually raising his voice above's Harry's, "you fought off about a hundred dementors at once — "

"You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turner hadn't — "

"Last year," Ron pushed on, still more loudly, "you fought off You-Know-Who again — "

"Listen to me!" Harry cut in, frustrated. All three were snickering. "Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck – I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help — "

He broke off, looking agitated that they weren't taking him seriously.

"Don't sit there grinning like you know better than I do, I was there, wasn't I? I know what went on, all right? And I didn't get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because — because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right — but I just blundered through it all, I didn't have a clue what I was doing — STOP LAUGHING!"

Harry knocked the bowl of murtlap essence to the floor as he stood up, and it shattered. They ceased laughing immediately.

" _You don't know what it's like!_ You — none of you — you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you're about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that — and you three sit there acting like I'm a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up — you just don't get it, that could have just as easily been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me — "

"Harry, calm down," Genevieve said.

"We weren't saying anything like that, mate," Ron assured, though he looked shocked. "We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't — you've got the wrong end of the — "

Ron glanced at Hermione for help.

"Harry," she said in a small voice, "don't you see? This . . . this is exactly why we need you . . . We need to know what it's r-really like . . . facing him . . . facing Voldemort."

If Genevieve jumped, it was out of pure surprise. She'd never heard Hermione call Voldemort by his name before. Harry seemed to be soothed by this. He sat back down, at any rate.

"Well . . . think about it," Hermione said, barely audible. "Please?"

Harry nodded tensely. Genevieve turned to him.

"Look, I know I can't possibly understand what you've gone through, but it just scares me to know that Voldemort is out there, and my dad's out there, and my friends are out there — " Genevieve's voice cracked. " — a-and they're all ready to fight him, but I-I've just, I've lost enough people. You can understand that. And when I'm out there next year, I want to be by their side, ready to help them. I need to do _something_."

Harry looked her in the eye. He smiled slightly, as if to comfort her, to let her know he was thinking about it. Genevieve nodded, and she and Hermione stood up.

"Well, we're off to bed, I suppose," Hermione said. "Erm . . . 'night."

Genevieve gave them a forced smile and headed upstairs, her eyes wet.


	8. Chapter 8: A Source of Hope

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Hermione had come over to Genevieve, Fred, George, and Lee to inform them that they would have a meeting in the Hog's Head to discuss the Defense Against the Dark Arts group on the next Hogsmeade weekend. So, after a quick stop at Zonko's, they made their way straight for the pub, which made the Three Broomsticks seem like a spotless palace in comparison.

They were the last in what was a very large crowd of people, and Fred approached the bar first.

"Hi. Could we have . . ." he counted the considerable number of students, "twenty-six butterbeers, please?"

The barman simply glowered at him for a moment before distributing dusty butterbeers.

"Cheers," Fred said. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these . . ."

After paying, Genevieve took a seat near Ginny. Harry looked simultaneously shocked, angry, and panicked at the large number of people. Hermione stood up to address them all.

"Er," she said nervously. "Well — er — hi. Well . . . erm . . . well, Harry here had the idea — I mean" — Harry glared at her — "I had the idea — that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts — and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us" — (Hermione's voice gradually because more and more confident) — "because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts" — "Hear, hear," a Ravenclaw named Anthony Goldstein and Genevieve said together. This seemed to motivate Hermione — "well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands.

"And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just by theory but the real spells — "

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?" Michael Corner, another Ravenclaw, whom Genevieve knew to be Ginny's boyfriend, said.

"Of course I do," Hermione said instantly. "But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because . . . because . . ." Hermione inhaled deeply, steeling herself, "Because Lord Voldemort's back."

Several people screamed or flinched. They all, however, continued to listen.

"Well . . . that's the plan, anyway. If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to — "

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" a Hufflepuff Genevieve didn't know said rather rudely.

"Where's the proof you're not a complete imbecile?" Genevieve retorted. "Why don't you have some respect and listen; you did come, after all."

He glared at her, while Hermione looked grateful.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it — "

He cut her off again. "You mean, Dumbledore believes _him._ "

"Listen like the rest of us, or _get out_." Genevieve warned.

"Who are _you_?" Ron asked the boy.

"Zacharias Smith, and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes _him_ say You-Know-Who's back."

Genevieve could feel her temper rising rather quickly. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Hermione beat her to it.

"Look, that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about — "

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry said. He looked directly into Zacharias's eyes. "What makes me say You-Know-Who's back? I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

Zacharias brushed it off. "All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know — "

 _"I think we'd all like for you to shut up,"_ Genevieve growled. Harry continued.

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you. I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

Nobody left. Hermione spoke again, though she'd lost all confidence.

"So. So . . . like I was saying . . . if you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to — "

"Is it true," cut in a girl, looking at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus?"

"Yeah," Harry replied.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

A look of recognition crossed Harry's face.

"Er — you don't know Madam Bones, do you?"

She grinned. "She's my auntie. I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So — is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes."

"Blimey, Harry!" Lee said. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," Fred said. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," Harry said. Genevieve laughed, along with a few others.

"And did you kill a basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" Terry Boot asked curiously. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year . . ."

"Er — yeah, I did, yeah."

"And our first year," Neville pointed out, "he saved that Sorcerous Stone — "

"Sorcerer's," corrected Hermione.

"Yes, that, from You-Know-Who."

"And that's not to mention," a Ravenclaw Genevieve thought was named Cho Chang said, "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year — getting past dragons and merpeople and acromantulas and things . . ."

"Look," Harry said, "I . . . I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but . . . I had a lot of help with all the stuff . . ."

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," Michael Corner argued. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying . . ."

"Yeah, well — "

"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer," Susan Bones added.

"No, no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is — "

Zacharias had the nerve to speak again. "Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?"

"Here's an idea," Ron said savagely, "why don't you shut your mouth?"

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it."

"That's not what he said," Fred growled.

George pulled one of their more dangerous purchases from a bag, long and made of metal. "Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?"

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," Fred finished.

"Yes, well," Hermione intervened, "moving on . . . the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"

There were mumbles in the affirmative.

"Right. Well, then, the next questions is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week — "

"Hang on," Angelina interrupted, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."

"No," Cho agreed, "nor with ours."

"Nor ours," Zacharias said.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone, but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters — "

"Well said!" Ernie Macmillan, a prefect, said loudly. "Personally I think this really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up! I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying actively to prevent us from using defensive spells —"

"We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione explained, "is that she's got some . . . some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilize us against the Ministry."

Shock rippled throughout the group, until a girl with a dreamy voice spoke, and it became obvious to Genevieve that this was Luna Lovegood. "Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"What?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Yes, he's got an army of heliopaths," Luna specified.

"No, he hasn't," Hermione said dismissively.

"Yes, he has."

"What are heliopaths?" Neville inquired.

"They're spirits of fire," Luna explained. "Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of — "

"They don't exist, Neville," Hermione interrupted.

"Oh yes they do!" Luna argued.

"I'm sorry, but where's the _proof_ of that?"

"There are plenty of eyewitness accounts, just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you — "

 _"Hem, hem."_

Genevieve jumped in alarm. She looked around desperately, only to see Ginny looking back at her, amused. She smacked her.

"Don't _do_ that!"

"Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and get Defense lessons?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, "yes, we were, you're right . . ."

"Well, once a week sounds cool," Lee said.

"As long as — " Angelina started.

"Yes, yes, we know about Quidditch," Hermione said impatiently. "Well, the other thing is where we're going to meet . . ."

Genevieve's brow furrowed in concentration. Where could nearly thirty people meet to practice defensive spells without getting caught?

"Library?" Katie proposed.

"I can't see Madam Prince being too chuffed with us doing jinxed in the library," Harry said.

"Maybe an unused classroom?" Dean Thomas, a Gryffindor in Harry's year, suggested.

"Yeah," Ron said, "McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practicing for the Triwizard . . ."

"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere," Hermione said, wrapping it up. "We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting."

She rifled through her back before pulling out parchment and a quill, paused, then said:

"I-I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge — or anybody else — what we're up to."

Fred was the first to sign, but others were more reluctant.

"Er . . ." Zacharias Smith said uneasily. "Well . . . I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the next meeting is."

Ernie didn't look too happy about the prospect either. "I — well, we are _prefects_ ," he said. "And if this list was found . . . well, I mean to say . . . you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out — "

"All right, then give it here," Genevieve said, reaching for the parchment and scribbling her name without a second thought.

Ernie goggled at her. "But you're Head Girl!"

Genevieve looked at him. "And what kind of a leader would I be if I didn't take risks, didn't stand up for what I believe in? I trust Hermione isn't going to leave this list in plain sight. And you did say this group was the most important thing you'd do all year . . . So, willing to live up to your words?"

She held out the parchment.

"I — yes, yes, of — of course I'll sign."

After Genevieve and Ernie had signed, it seemed everyone else was much less hesitant. After all, they had the most to lose. But now it was signed, it felt permanent, like a commitment they had no choice but to stick to.

"Well, time's ticking on," Fred said in an almost businesslike manner. "George, Lee, Gen, and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later."

Genevieve shook her head and laughed, but followed the lot out of the pub.

•~0~•

Monday morning, everyone awoke to an official-looking notice on the common room notice board, stating that all organizations, societies, teams, groups, or clubs were disbanded and banned at Hogwarts unless approval was gotten from none other than the High Inquisitor, Professor Umbridge herself.

At breakfast, Genevieve, Neville, Dean, Fred, George, and Ginny surrounded Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Did you see it?"

"D'you reckon she knows?"

"What are we going to do?"

Harry paused, looked around for teachers, and when there were none nearby, whispered, "We're going to do it anyway, of course."

Genevieve smiled.

"Knew you'd say that," George said happily.

"The prefects — and Head Girl — as well?" Fred asked, looking between them.

"Of course," Hermione answered.

"My name's down on the parchment just like yours, and you can bet I won't be scratching it out anytime soon," Genevieve told him.

"Here comes Ernie and Hannah Abbott," Ron noted. " _And_ those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith . . . and no one looks very spotty."

Genevieve and Hermione shared looks of panic.

"I'll tell Ernie and Hannah," Genevieve said. "Anybody'll just think it's the Head Girl talking to a couple of prefects."

Genevieve rushed over to them.

"Go back to your table," she hissed. "We're doing it anyway, but it's going to look suspicious if everybody is at the Gryffindor table. Hermione'll get with you two later."

They nodded tensely and sat down with the Hufflepuffs. Genevieve breathed a sigh of relief.

•~0~•

"We're meeting Snuffles tonight," Hermione whispered to Genevieve at dinner. "Same time, same place."

She nodded and smiled. Genevieve had been worried about Sirius since their last conversation. He had been a bit upset when they didn't want to meet him at Hogsmeade.

After Fred, George, and Lee, who had been demonstrating the effectiveness of their Puking Pastilles in the common room and selling them, had finally gone up to bed, and Genevieve had just finished all of her homework, having learned a long time ago how to ignore them, Snowflake sleeping in her lap, Ron woke with a start from where he'd been snoozing in an armchair and exclaimed, "Sirius!"

Genevieve put away her books and looked at him.

"Hi," Sirius greeted.

"Hi," the four responded together.

"How're things?"

"Not that good," Harry answered. "The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams — "

" — or secret Defense Against the Dark Arts groups?" Sirius asked knowledgeably.

There was a moment's silence.

"How did you know about that?" Harry asked.

"You want to choose your meeting places more carefully," Sirius advised, beaming at them nonetheless. "The Hog's Head, I ask you . . ."

"Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!" Hermione insisted. "That's always packed with people — "

" — which means you'd have been harder to overhear," Sirius explained. "You've got a lot to learn, Hermione."

"Who overheard us?" Harry asked.

"Mundungus, of course," Sirius laughed. "He was the witch under the veil."

"That was Mundungus? What was he doing in the Hog's Head?"

"What do you think he was doing?" Sirius asked rhetorically. "Keeping an eye on you, of course."

"I'm still being followed?"

"Harry, unless Voldemort's dropped dead out of nowhere, of course you'd still be followed," Genevieve said impatiently.

"And just as well, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your weekend off is organize an illegal defense group," Sirius finished.

He didn't look upset in the slightest, though. In fact, Genevieve didn't know if she'd ever seen him happier.

"Why was Dung hiding from us?" Ron asked dejectedly. "We'd've liked to see him."

"He was banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago, and that barman's got a long memory. We lost Moody's spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested, so Dung's been dressing as a witch a lot lately . . . Anyway . . . First of all, Ron — I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother."

"Oh yeah?" asked Ron, already bracing himself.

"She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also," — Sirius turned his attention to the other three — "advises Harry, Hermione, and Genevieve not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over any of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all of this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say for herself because she's on duty tonight."

"On duty doing what?" Ron asked swiftly.

"Never you mind, just stuff for the Order. So it's fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on, because I don't think she trusts me to. Also — "

Sirius looked directly at Genevieve. "Your father has asked me most politely to tell you that he would rather you follow your heart than listen to any of us, but, if you do decide to take part in the group, to be extremely careful."

Genevieve nodded and smiled at him. Sirius simply looked at her for a second and shook his head, smirking.

"Merlin, that's exactly the kind of thing James would've done as Head Boy, Lily too, probably, for something like this . . ."

Harry, however, asked, "So you want me to say I'm not going to take part in the defense group?"

Sirius looked shocked that he even asked. "Me? Certainly not — did you not hear what I just said to Genevieve? James would've done the same thing. I think it's an excellent idea!"

"You do?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Of course I do! D'you think your father and I would've lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?"

"But — last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks — "

"Last year all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry! This year we know that there's someone outside Hogwarts who'd like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!"

"And if we do get expelled?" Hermione asked, looking much less comfortable with the whole plan now that Sirius has given his approval. Genevieve frowned at her.

"Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!" Harry reminded her.

"I know it was . . . I just wondered what Sirius thought," she said with almost convincing indifference.

"Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue."

"Hear, hear," Harry, Ron, and Genevieve said.

Genevieve looked at her. "Hermione, think about it. Would you rather have 10 O.W.L.s or be able to keep Voldemort and the Death Eaters from hurting the people around you?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, obviously the second option, it's just . . ." She trailed off.

"So," Sirius said, getting back on topic, "how are you organizing this group? Where are you meeting?"

"Well, that's a bit of a problem now," Harry told him. "Dunno where we're going to be able to go . . ."

"How about the Shrieking Shack?" Sirius recommended.

"Hey, that's an idea!" Ron said enthusiastically, but Hermione said:

"Well, Sirius, it's just that there were only four of you meeting in the Shrieking Shack when you were at school, and all of you could transform into animals and I suppose you could all have squeezed under a single Invisibility Cloak if you'd wanted to. But there are twenty-nine of us and none of us is an Animagus, so we wouldn't need so much an Invisibility Cloak as an Invisibility Marquee — "

"Fair point," Sirius agreed, though he looked somewhat disappointed. "Well, I'm sure you'll come up with somewhere . . . There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you might have enough space to practice jinxes in there — "

"Fred, George, and Gen," Harry jerked his head in Genevieve's direction, "told me it's blocked. Caved in or something."

Genevieve shrugged apologetically.

"Oh . . ." Sirius frowned. "Well, I'll have a think and get back to — "

He stopped talking, looked to the side of him, and disappeared before they could say anything. Genevieve jumped and backed away, Snowflake sliding angrily out of her lap and scampering off, but she paid no mind to her.

A hand, an ugly hand bearing ugly rings, was grabbing for something in the flames, exactly where Sirius had been seconds before. Somehow, Umbridge knew that they were talking to him. Genevieve and the others dashed back to their dormitories, and she didn't dare look back.


	9. Chapter 9: Light Among Darkness

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Katie stalked into the common room, looking particularly furious. Genevieve's jaw dropped; she was covered in ink.

"What happened?"

"Peeves," Katie seethed.

"Say no more," Genevieve said. _"Scourgify!"_

The ink disappeared. Katie dropped into a nearby chair, muttering thanks.

"That good-for-nothing poltergeist, wish somebody'd expel him, do us all a favor . . ."

"What knows?" Genevieve said airily. "Maybe one day he'll be of use for something."

•~0~•

They plodded across the corridor of the seventh floor cautiously. A polished wooden door awaited them.

"I've passed this statue hundreds of times," Genevieve said, confused. "And I've never seen a door here! Except . . ."

The twins nodded. "The broom cupboard."

And, without further ado, they swept into the room.

Once everyone was there, Harry locked them in.

"Well. This is the place we've found for practices, and you've — er — obviously found it okay — "

"It's fantastic!" Cho complimented enthusiastically. Others agreed.

"It's bizarre," Fred commented. "We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George, Gen? But it was just a broom cupboard then . . ."

"Hey, Harry, what's this stuff?" Dean Thomas asked, gesturing to a collection of Sneakoscopes and a Foe-Glass.

"Dark Detectors," Harry answered. "Basically they all show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don't want to rely on them too much, they can be fool . . . Well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and — er — what, Hermione?" he asked with just a touch of exasperation as Hermione's hand shot into the air.

Genevieve figured this must be what it was like to be in classes with her.

"I think we ought to elect a leader," Hermione proposed.

"Harry's leader," Cho replied immediately.

"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly," Hermione pressed on, unflustered. "It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So — everyone who thinks Harry ought to be leader?"

Everyone raised their hand without hesitation, though Zacharias Smith was less enthusiastic.

"Er — right, thanks," Harry said awkwardly. "And — _what_ , Hermione?"

"I also think we ought to have a name. It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"

Suggestions flooded in.

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?"

"Or the Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group?"

"I was thinking," Hermione said, "more of a name that didn't tell everyone what we were up to, do we can refer to it safely outside meetings."

"The Defense Association?" Cho said. "The D.A. for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"

"Yeah, the D.A.'s good," Ginny piped up. "Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?"

Genevieve laughed.

"All in favor of the D.A.? That's a majority — motion passed!"

Hermione scrawled DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY on the list of their names and pinned it to the wall.

"Right," Harry continued, "shall we get practicing then? I was thinking, the first think we should do is _Expelliarmus_ , you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful — "

Zacharias Smith interrupted. "Oh _please_ ," he scoffed. "I don't think _Expelliarmus_ is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

Genevieve opened her mouth to retort, but Harry beat her to it, saying softly, "I've used it against him. It saved my life last June."

Smith made a movement much like a goldfish, opening and closing his mouth as though someone had used the Silencing Charm on him.

"But if you think it's beneath you," Harry went on, "you can leave."

Everyone remained on their cushions.

"Okay," Harry continued, "I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice."

As there was an odd number of people, Genevieve partnered up with Fred and George. Once the room was effectively thrown into chaos, Genevieve beckoned the twins over to where Smith was partnered with Anthony Goldstein.

 _Expelliarmus!_ She Disarmed him without opening her mouth. As they were behind him, Smith had no clue what was happening.

"Brilliant!" Fred mouthed, casting the spell himself. They took turns disarming Smith until Harry made eye contact with them, looking amused despite himself.

"Sorry, Harry," George apologized. "Couldn't resist . . ."

After a while, Harry blew a whistle, which Genevieve didn't even know he had.

"That wasn't bad, but there's definite room for improvement. Genevieve, you seem to have got the spell down, would you come walk around the room and help everyone else?"

Genevieve nodded, smiling.

"All right," Harry said. "Let's try again . . ."

Genevieve patrolled the room, correcting gently some of the students. She made sure to berate Zacharias Smith.

"Your stance is all wrong," she said. "And you're not moving your wand right."

He glared at her. Genevieve smiled back sweetly.

Finally, Harry blew his whistle again and the group fell silent, looking at him.

"Well, that was pretty good, but we've overrun, wed better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?"

"Sooner!" Dean Thomas pleaded. Many others voiced similar opinions.

Angelina cut in. "The Quidditch season's about to start, we need team practices too!"

"Let's say Wednesday night then," Harry compromised, "and we can decide on additional meetings then . . . Come on, we'd better get going."

And, checking the Marauder's Map for nearby teachers, Harry allowed them all to leave in groups of three or four, and Genevieve, Fred, George, and Lee ducked out carefully and scampered away.

As Genevieve continued to attend D.A. meetings, even helping Hermione think up a way to contact the other members without drawing attention to themselves (fake Galleons with the Protean Charm), it was like, for one of the first times that year, she had something to look forward to, not to dread. They were defying Umbridge without her knowledge, and it gave Genevieve a kind of control over her life that Umbridge had worked so hard to take from them.

Quidditch season was also fast approaching, and the D.A. meetings were even paused in preparation. Ron had made the team, and even Fred and George had said he might make a good Keeper, even if he didn't live up to Wood. Then again, Wood was a bit Quidditch obsessed.

The day of the first Quidditch match, Ron was barely able to eat for nerves. After a while, Harry gave up goading him into it and they went down to the Quidditch pitch to get ready for the game.

Before they left, however, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and said, "Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherins' badges."

Genevieve glanced over to a passing and sniggering Slytherin, who was proudly wearing a crown-shaped badge that read WEASLEY IS OUR KING.

"What d'you reckon that means?" Genevieve asked Hermione softly.

"Nothing good," she replied grimly.

•~0~•

The game began, balls and players shooting into the air. Harry immediately began his search for the Snitch, the Slytherin slimeball doing the same.

Lee was commentating. "And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me — "

"JORDAN!" McGonagall shouted warningly.

"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest — and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's — ouch — been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe . . . Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back ip the pitch and — nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse passes to Alicia Spinner and Spinnet's away — dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger — close call, Alicia — and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

Genevieve listened, her temper rising as the Slytherins sang:

 _Weasley cannot save a thing,_

 _He cannot block a single ring,_

 _That's why Slytherins all sing:_

 _Weasley is our King._

 _Weasley was born in a bin,_

 _He always lets the Quaffle in,_

 _Weasley will make sure we win,_

 _Weasley is our King._

" — and Alicia passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouted hurriedly. "Come on now, Angelina — looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! — SHE SHOOTS — SHE — aaaah . . ."

Genevieve scowled as the Slytherin Keeper saved the goal. The Slytherins grew steadily louder. Genevieve found herself unable to concentrate on the game.

 _Weasley is our King,_

 _Weasley is our King,_

 _He always lets the Quaffle in,_

 _Weasley is our King._

"I'd like to murder the lot of them," Genevieve growled.

Hermione sighed. "I know. And they're messing Ron up; he's just let the Slytherins score."

At long last, saving them all, Harry caught the Snitch, though he got hit by a Bludger afterwards. Ron slipped away from the field, and Genevieve couldnt see where he went.

Malfoy, meanwhile, was causing quite a scene. He must've been saying something bad, because Fred and George looked at though they wanted nothing more than to see him die a gruesome death at their hands, and only through Alicia, Angelina, and Katie holding Fred back and Harry restraining George did it not happen.

But then Malfoy said something else, and, before she knew it, Harry had released George and they were both marching furiously up to Malfoy. Genevieve watched in horror, unable to stop them.

Madam Hooch did it for her. She sent Harry and George away from the field and undoubtedly to McGonagall's office. Sure enough, McGonagall followed close behind, looking incensed. Genevieve and Hermione exchanged alarmed expressions. There was no way this was going to end well.


	10. Chapter 10: St Mungo’s and Snakes, Ugh

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Harry, George, _and_ Fred had been given lifetime bans from Quidditch, courtesy of Umbridge, who had used her status as High Inquisitor to pass another decree, allowing her to overrun McGonagall.

"This is outrageous," Genevieve muttered. "She _can't_ take everything!"

"I wouldn't try to find out," George said glumly.

Quidditch had been a huge factor in the twins' return to Hogwarts for their final year at all. And now that it had been taken away, they were often more subdued than usual.

Hagrid, meanwhile, had returned from his mission, though, from what Genevieve saw, it wasn't without harm done to him. He looked as though someone had ground him to a pulp, and he wouldn't tell Genevieve, nor the others, what had made him so. Harry, Ron, and Hermione informed her about his mostly unsuccessful mission to persuade the giants, and about Umbridge's inspection of him. It hadn't gone well.

Genevieve was also infinitely busier, what with her and the prefects having to help with Christmas decorations (which included struggling against Peeves's attempts to strangle them all), supervising the younger students during breaks — now inside, due to winter being in full swing — (they insulted and disobeyed them at every turn), and the absolute displeasure of stalking through the halls with Filch (whose paranoia had, for some unknown reason, skyrocketed recently). Genevieve barely had time to do her homework; she even had to cut down on visits with Myrtle (which had caused quite possibly the most severe flooding to date).

Luckily, the Christmas holidays were coming soon, and Genevieve and her father had been invited to spend the break at the Burrow, which they had graciously accepted.

The last D.A. meeting had passed before she knew it, and Genevieve went to sleep that night exhausted, having been frozen multiple times by the sniggering twins, who'd managed to catch her off-guard.

•~0~•

When Genevieve awoke the next morning, the twins, Ginny, Ron, and Harry were gone. She and Hermione were left worrying until Dumbledore came and told them what had happened.

Mr. Weasley had been attacked. Harry had seen what had happened through a vision in his sleep and they were able to save him in time. Everyone was with Sirius now. Genevieve's father was already aware of the situation and staying there as well.

"When're we going to be able to go?" Genevieve asked.

"You will have to wait until term officially ends," Dumbledore told them firmly.

They nodded tensely. Umbridge was practically bursting with anger when she found out the lot of them had escaped early. Her rage didn't subside even when Dumbledore informed her that Mr. Weasley was in St. Mungo's, and that the missing students had his permission to visit.

They waited out the term anxiously, and boarded the Knight Bus on the way to Grimmauld Place at the first possible minute. The ride was jerky, to say the least, and Genevieve was more than glad to stumble off at the end of it.

Upon arrival, they learned of Harry's isolation and of what the others had heard in St. Mungo's. Apparently Harry'd seen Mr. Weasley's attack _from the snake's point of view_ and had since shut himself off and refused to speak to any of them.

Hermione went up and convinced him to come down to where Genevieve, Ron, and Ginny waited for them, sitting on Ron's bed.

"We came on the Knight Bus," Hermione explained. "Dumbledore told us what had happened first thing yesterday morning, but we had to wait for term to officially end before setting off. Umbridge is already livid that you lot disappeared right under her nose, even though Dumbledore told her Mr. Weasley was in St. Mungo's, and he'd given you all permission to visit. So . . . How're you feeling?"

"Fine," Harry replied harshly.

"Oh, don't lie, Harry. Ron and Ginny say you've been hiding from everyone since you got back from St. Mungo's."

"They do, do they?"

"Don't blame them for your behavior," Genevieve said sharply.

Harry continued to glower at them.

"Well, you have!" Ginny said. "And you won't look at any of us!"

"It's you lot who won't look at me!"

Hermione and Genevieve couldn't keep from smirking a bit. "Well, maybe you're taking it in turns . . ." Genevieve began.

". . . and you keep missing each other," Hermione finished.

"Very funny," Harry snarled.

"Oh, stop feeling all misunderstood. Look, the others have told us what you overheard last night in the Extendable Ears — "

"Yeah? All been talking about me, have you? Well, I'm getting used to it — "

"Why don't you stop biting our heads off and listen to what we have to say?" Genevieve said impatiently.

"We wanted to talk _to you_ , Harry," Ginny said, frustrated, "but as you've been hiding ever since we got back — "

"I didn't want anyone to talk to me," he said irritably.

"Well, that was a bit stupid of you," Ginny said, almost shaking with anger, "seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels."

"I forgot," Harry said sheepishly.

"Lucky you."

"I'm sorry," he said with sincerity. "So . . . so do you think I'm being possessed, then?"

"Well, can you remember everything you've been doing? Are there big blank periods where you don't know what you've been up to?"

"No," Harry said after some thought.

"Then You-Know-Who hasn't ever possessed you. When he did it to me, I couldn't remember what I'd been doing for hours at a time. I'd find myself somewhere and not know how I got there."

Harry seemed reluctant to hope. "That dream I had about your dad and the snake, though — "

"Harry, you've had those dreams before," Hermione reminded him. "You had flashes of what Voldemort was up to last year."

"That was different." Harry shook his head. "I was inside that snake. It was like I _was_ the snake . . . What if Voldemort somehow transported me to London — ?"

"That is about the most rubbish idea I've heard to date," Genevieve said. "And I'm best mates with the Weasley twins and Moaning Myrtle."

"One day," Hermione continued, "you'll read _Hogwarts, A History,_ and perhaps that will remind you that you can't Apparate or Disapparate inside Hogwarts. Even Voldemort couldn't just make you fly out of your dormitory, Harry."

"You didn't leave your bed, mate," Ron assured him. "I saw you thrashing around in your sleep about a minute before we could wake you up . . ."

This seemed to calm him.

•~0~•

Sirius, to Genevieve's relief, was much happier now that the house was full and Christmas on the way. They spent nearly all their cleaning and decorating the house so that one couldn't possibly compare it to sullen and foreboding house that Genevieve had first seen that summer.

On Christmas morning, as had become normal Christmas procedure, Genevieve opened first the package that held her newest Weasley jumper, a brilliant cerulean.

From Charlie she had received yet another dragon sculpture, this one a Welsh Green. She wished so much that she could send him a letter telling everything that had happened, but they couldn't risk interception. Instead, their letters were full of meaningless jokes and empty of news, empty of advice. Genevieve hated it.

From her father, Genevieve received her mother's favorite old Muggle book, _Pride and Prejudice._ She had her own copy, of course, but this one was dog-tagged, creased, worn, annotated. Allie had spilled her thoughts and feelings into these pages, and Genevieve cherished them.

Other gifts were more playful. Katie had sent her some more Sugar Quills; the twins had given her more Honeydukes chocolate and Dungbombs.

Sirius and Lupin had gifted her with a book about Magical Creatures and their origins. The bit she read through was fascinating.

In return, Genevieve sent Charlie some Honeydukes chocolate and a Muggle book about dragons he would probably find funny. To her father, she gave a warm scarf. Katie received a signed poster from her favorite Quidditch team. The twins each got Acid Pops and Fizzing Whizbees. To Sirius, Genevieve gave a variety of landscape pictures to make him feel like he was outside. To Lupin, Genevieve gave a new briefcase.

She walked down to Harry and Ron's room, entering just as the twins Apparated in.

"Why can't you two just walk like everybody else?" Genevieve asked, exasperated.

"Merry Christmas," George told them. "Don't go downstairs for a bit."

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"Mum's crying again," Fred answered. "Percy sent back his Christmas jumper."

"Without a note. Hasn't asked how Dad is or visited him or anything . . ."

"That _absolute prat_ ," Genevieve whispered.

"We tried to comfort her," Fred went on. "Told her Percy's nothing more than a pile of rat droppings —"

" — didn't work. So Lupin took over. Best let him cheer her up before we go down for breakfast, I reckon."

"What's that supposed to be anyway?" Fred inquired, indicating a rather crude painting. "Looks like a gibbon with two black eyes."

"It's Harry!" George exclaimed with glee, jabbing at the air around the back of the portrait. "Says so on the back!"

"Good likeness," Fred commented. Harry threw what looked like a diary at him, except it chanted, _"If you've dotted the i's and crossed the t's then you may do whatever you please!"_

•~0~•

They spent a moment wondering where Kreacher could be, as nobody'd seen him for a good while, but Sirius brushed it off, saying, "I'll look for him later, I expect I'll find him upstairs crying his eyes out over my mother's old bloomers or something . . . Of course, he might have crawled into the airing cupboard and died . . . But I mustn't get my hopes up . . ."

Fred, George, Genevieve, and Ron laughed, while Hermione scowled.

After lunch, the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, and Genevieve, accompanied by Moody, Lupin, and Genevieve's father, all clambered into a car Mundungus had "borrowed" and set off for St. Mungo's to visit Mr. Weasley.

•~0~•

Mr. Weasley greeted them a little too enthusiastically.

"Everything all right, Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley asked almost suspiciously.

"Fine, fine," he said quickly. "You — er — haven't seen Healer Smethwyck, have you?"

"No," her voice was getting dangerous, "why?"

"Nothing, nothing. Well, everyone had a good day? What did you all get for Christmas? Oh, _Harry —_ this is absolutely _wonderful —_ "

Harry had given him fuse-wire and screwdrivers for Christmas. Genevieve fought to suppress a snort.

"Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said almost venomously, "you've had your bandages changed. Why have you had your bandages changed a day early, Arthur? They told me they wouldn't need doing until tomorrow."

"What?" Mr. Weasley said nervously. "No, no — it's nothing — it's — I — "

Mrs. Weasley stared daggers at him, and he gave in.

"Well — now don't get upset, Molly, but Augustus Pye had an idea . . . He's the trainee Healer, you know, lovely young chap and very interested in . . . um . . . complementary medicine . . . I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies . . . well, they're called _stitches,_ Molly, and they work very well on — on Muggle wounds — "

"I don't reckon we want to stick around for the end of this," Genevieve whispered to Bill, who sat beside her.

He nodded. "I think I'm going to get myself a cup of tea," he announced quietly.

Genevieve and the twins gladly followed him out of the room.

•~0~•

When they got back to Grimmauld Place, Hermione told Genevieve in a hushed voice about their encounter with Neville, his parents, and his grandmother.

"That's just _awful_ ," Genevieve said bleakly. "I can't imagine. Worse than death, that is."

Death seemed to be a reminder these days. Soon, the fifth anniversary of her grandfather's death had arrived and Genevieve and her father left the house to visit his grave.

Genevieve left that day's crossword puzzle there, half finished.


	11. Chapter 11: Bug Unbecoming

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

As it turned out, Sirius had found Kreacher in the attic, caked in dust and probably trying to "save" more Black family heirlooms fro Sirius's purge. What made Genevieve suspicious, however, was the fact that Kreacher seemed somewhat happier than before, less obedient and foul-mouthed. When Genevieve had warned Sirius to keep an eye on him, he simply brushed her off.

"He's probably just found another picture of Bellatrix Lestrange to worship," Sirius said, unconcerned.

On he final day of the holidays, Genevieve was watching Harry and Ron play a rather brutal game of wizard chess, Hermione and Ginny at her side and Snowflake curled up in her lap.

Mrs. Weasley popped into the room. "Harry dear, could you come down to the kitchen? Professor Snape would like a word with you."

Her words didn't sink in for a moment, as Harry was so caught up in the game. Genevieve and Ginny exchanged baffled — and horrified — looks.

"Squash him — _squash him_ , he's only a pawn, you idiot — sorry, Mrs. Weasley, what did you say?" Harry asked politely.

"Professor Snape, dear. In the kitchen. He'd like a word."

Harry gawked back at her. The others mirrored his expression.

"Snape?" Harry asked numbly.

" _Professor_ Snape, dear," Mr. Weasley corrected. "Now come on, quickly, he says he can't stay long."

She bustled out of the room.

"What's he want with you?" Ron demanded. "You've haven't done anything, have you?"

"No!" Harry said.

Their worry about Harry was soon interrupted by the return of Mr. Weasley. They hurried down to the kitchen, eager to tell Sirius and Harry.

"Cured!" Mr. Weasley declared. "Completely cured!"

Genevieve stopped still. Sirius and Snape were standing opposite each other, hatred etched in every bit of their faces, wands raised. Harry stood between them, trying to keep the peace.

"Merlin's beard," Mr. Weasley said, frowning, "what's going on here?"

Sirius and Snape withdrew their wands, though their faces still contained that of deepest loathing. Snape strode to the door without looking at any of them, then said, "Six o'clock Monday evening, Potter."

"But what's been going on?" Mr. Weasley persisted.

"Nothing, Arthur," Sirius said. "Just a friendly little chat between two old school friends . . . So . . . you're cured?" Sirius forced a smile on his face. "That's great news, really great . . ."

"Yes, isn't it?" Mrs. Weasley said happily. "Healer Smethwyck worked his magic in the end, found an antidote to whatever that snake's got in its fangs, and Arthur's learned his lesson about dabbling in Muggle medicine, _haven't you dear_?"

"Yes, Molly dear," Mr. Weasley answered in a small voice.

Though the majority of the group was cheerful at dinner that night, Sirius had a rather sulky and harsh demeanor, though he put on a good show for the others. Genevieve nudged him.

"Whatever Snape said," she told him quietly, "don't listen to it, okay? You're ten times the person he is."

He nodded tensely.

•~0~•

The next morning, they were rushed out of Grimmauld Place hurriedly and cautiously, to return to Hogwarts via the Knight Bus. Before she left, Genevieve turned to Sirius.

"I feel bad leaving you here again," she said. "I know how much you hate it."

Sirius shrugged.

"Dealt with it for sixteen years, haven't I? Besides, don't worry about me. Look after Harry."

Genevieve smiled. "Just do try not to get yourself killed, Sirius."

He grinned. "Where's the fun in that?"

They didn't have time to say anything else, as Tonks and Lupin shoved them along.

"Come on, the quicker we get on the bus the better," Tonks warned.

Lupin thrust out his arm.

BANG.

The Knight Bus materialized, and a young man greeted them.

"Welcome to the — "

"Yes, yes, we know, thank you," Tonks interrupted. "On, on, get on."

She shunted them on.

The conductor recognized Harry.

" 'Ere — it's 'Arry — !"

"If you shout his name I will curse you into oblivion," Tonks threatened. She addressed the group. "Looks like we'll have to split up. Fred, George, Ginny, and Genevieve, if you just take those seats at the back . . . Remus can stay with you . . ."

They sat down. The ride was much as it was from Hogwarts.

"I thought I made myself clear," Genevieve said exasperatedly as the Knight Bus gave another threatening lurch and they all collided with the floor, "I did _not_ want to ride this death contraption again."

Lupin gave her a tired smile. "It was the best way," he said apologetically.

Genevieve simply nodded. The bus gave another great BANG.

"At least we're in Hogsmeade," Genevieve said, rubbing her forehead. At long last, they pulled up outside Hogwarts.

Tonks and Lupin got off to help with their luggage and bade them goodbye.

"Look after yourselves," Lupin told them. He shook Genevieve's hand. She leaned in.

"I know you've got a mission with the Order, but look after Sirius when you've the chance, will you? He's bound to get a bit restless."

Lupin nodded. Genevieve and the others wished final farewells to Tonks and Lupin, and they trudged back up to the castle.

That night, studying was nothing more than a wistful hope. It was no bother, really. Genevieve had finished her homework in the library before. Fred and George, on the other hand, were advertising their latest product: Headless Hats, which contained an Invisibility Spell that, though extending beyond the area of the hat (and therefore vanishing the head as well), had a somewhat short life-span.

Genevieve was watching them with amusement, though she saw out of the corner of her eye Harry, Hermione, and Ron trying and failing to focus on homework.

She walked over to them.

"You want one of these?" Genevieve offered, pulling a small container of earplugs from her bag. "I've got them to where they cast a Muffliato Charm on the wearer, but only when the wearer has them on, my father used to know a certain Charms professor. They keep out the noise."

"No," Harry said. "I don't feel well. I'm going to have to do this tomorrow."

"Well, write it in your homework planner then!" Hermione urged. "So you don't forget!"

Genevieve snorted. " _You_ got them the homework planners? I should've known."

Hermione glared at her. Genevieve choked. "B-Because that was an absolutely brilliant idea!"

Hermione ignored her, smiling fondly at Harry's planner, which chirped, _"Don't leave it till later, you big second-rater!"_

"I think I'll go to bed," Harry muttered before walking away.

"Is he okay?" Genevieve asked.

Hermione sighed. "He's got to take Occlumency lessons from Professor Snape to shield his mind from Voldemort — oh Ron, grow up!" — Ron had given an involuntary shudder at the name. "Actually, Ron," Hermione said thoughtfully, "you might want to go check on him."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Well, when somebody's been repeatedly attacking your mind, like Snape's been doing — "

"Your defenses are bound to be low after," a Genevieve finished.

Ron nodded and followed Harry to the boys' dormitories.

•~0~•

The next morning, when Hermione received her subscription of the _Daily Prophet_ , she yelped so loudly everyone in the area turned to look at her. Genevieve hurried over.

"What's happened?" she asked.

Harry and Ron were staring grimly at the front page, which contained pictures of ten Death Eaters, nine wizards and one disdainful-looking witch. Beside each of the photographs, the page listed the names of the person and their crimes.

 _Antonin Dolohov, convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett._

 _Augustus Rookwood, convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic Secrets to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

And, quite possibly the worst, _Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom, suspected of numerous other crimes and murders._

Genevieve read the title above the photos.

 **MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN — MINISTRY FEARS BLACK IS "RALLYING POINT" FOR OLD DEATH EATERS**

"Black?" Harry exclaimed. "Not — ?"

 _"Shhh!"_ Genevieve and Hermione hissed together. Hermione went on. "Not so loud — just read it!"

The article went on the describe that the Death Eaters escaped early evening the day before, that the Muggle Prime Minister had already been informed, and that Fudge was accusing Black of being behind it.

"There you are, Harry," Ron said. "That's why he was happy last night . . ."

"I don't believe this," Harry spat. "Fudge is blaming the breakout on _Sirius_?"

"What other options does he have?" Hermione said acidly. "He can hardly say, 'Sorry everyone, Dumbledore warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined Lord Voldemort' — stop _whimpering_ , Ron — 'and now Voldemort's worst supporters have broken out too.' I mean, he's spent a good six months telling everyone you and Dumbledore are liars, hasn't he?"

"Pride goes before a fall," said Genevieve bitterly.

She glanced around. McGonagall and Dumbledore were having an extremely serious conversation, Professor Sprout was reading the article with unwavering intensity, and Umbridge, alone among them, was eating, though she glowered at Dumbledore and McGonagall every so often.

"Oh my — " Hermione said.

"What now?" Harry asked hastily.

"It's . . . _horrible_." Whatever it was, it seemed to have really rattled her. She showed them the newspaper.

A Minstry worker named Broderick Bode, who had been in St. Mungo's, has been strangled to death with Devil's Snare.

"Bode . . ." said Ron, thinking. " _Bode._ It rings a bell . . ."

"We saw him," Hermione said, her voice barely audible. "In St. Mungo's, remember? He was in the bed opposite Lockhart's, just lying there, staring at the ceiling. And we saw the Devil's Snare arrive. She — the Healer — said it was a Christmas present . . ."

"That's _awful_ ," Genevieve whispered, her eyes glued to the paper.

"How come we didn't recognize the Devil's Snare . . . ?" Harry demanded. "We've seen it before . . . we could've stopped this from happening . . ."

"Who expects Devil's Snare to turn up in a hospital disguised as a potted plant?" Ron said harshly. "It's not our fault, whoever sent it to the bloke is to blame! They must be a real prat, why didn't they check what they were buying?"

"That's the point," Genevieve said darkly. "They _did_."

"Oh come on, Ron!" Hermione said, though her voice shook, "I don't think anyone could put Devil's Snare in a pot and not realize it tries to kill whoever touches it? This — this was murder . . . A clever murder, as well . . . If the potted plant was sent anonymously, how's anyone ever going to find out who did it?"

Harry was silent in thought for a moment.

"I met Bode," he said finally. "I saw him at the Ministry with your dad . . ."

Ron gaped.

"I've heard Dad talk about him at home! He was an Unspeakable — he worked in the Department of Mysteries!"

Genevieve understood the severity of this situation, as Hermione had informed her of Harry's dreaming of the Department of Mysteries. They exchanged looks and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked.

"To send a letter," Genevieve answered simply.

"It . . . well, I don't know whether . . ." Hermione was muttering, mostly to herself. ". . . but it's worth trying . . . and we're the only ones who can . . ."

As they walked out, Genevieve said, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but Skeeter's finally got some use."

•~0~•

Hagrid had been put on probation, much to Genevieve's fury. It had taken half an hour and three cups of tea for the half-giant to calm Genevieve down enough that she wouldn't go ripping the hag apart for all she'd done.

Meanwhile, the news that ten Death Eaters had escaped seemed to be all that anyone talked about. Even the teachers could be seen conversing quietly in the halls, for to do so in the staffroom with Umbridge was out of the question.

Another decree had been passed. Teachers were now forbidden to speak to a student about anything that didn't strictly relate to the subject they taught. The smart alecks they were, Fred and George took the opportunity to play Exploding Snap in DADA class, and Lee had gleefully explained to Umbridge, who had tried to tell them off, that, "Exploding Snap's got nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor! That's not information relating to your subject!"

Which promptly earned him a detention. When Genevieve saw his bleeding hand, which was resting calmly in a bowl of murtlap essence, she said, "Harry put you onto it?"

"Yep."

"She's a foul, _foul_ woman."

"I know."

The D.A. was also unnerved by the escape, using it as motivation to learn harder than ever how to defend themselves, especially Neville. Genevieve always made sure to give him a few tips and compliment him whenever he mastered a new spell. But the escape also bothered her. Her mother's killer had never been caught. Nobody knew who they were.

The escape opened Genevieve's eyes to the fact that her mother's murderer was out there, having escaped, or had never been sent to Azkaban at all. She had to learn how to protect herself, her friends, her family. She just had to.

•~0~•

The next Hogsmeade visit was fast approaching, and Genevieve and Hermione were awaiting Rita's response more and more anxiously.

Finally, on the day of the Hogsmeade visit, her answer arrived.

"And about time!" Hermione exclaimed. "If it hadn't come today . . ."

Genevieve read the letter over her shoulder. They looked at each other.

"Listen, Harry," Hermione told him. "This is really important . . . Do you think you can meet us in the Three Broomsticks around midday?"

"Well . . . I dunno," Harry replied. "Cho might be expecting me to spend the whole day with her. We never said what we were going to do."

"Cho can wait," Genevieve said impatiently. "This _really_ can't."

"Bring her along if you must," Hermione compromised. "But will you come?"

"Well . . . all right, but why?"

Genevieve checked her watch and shook her head.

"We haven't got time to tell you now."

"We've got to answer this quickly," Hermione finished.

They almost sprinted away.

•~0~•

Genevieve, Luna, Hermione, and Rita Skeeter sat at a table in the Three Broomsticks. It had taken Hermione a lot of effort to politely, and without insulting Luna's father, who was editor for _The Quibbler_ , ask Luna to help them, and even then Genevieve had to step in to keep Hermione from saying something she'd regret. Hermione and Luna did not get on well.

"Now, remember, Skeeter," Genevieve warned. "If I hear you say so much as a false word . . ."

She mimed violently shaking a jar. Rita winced and glared at her through nearly sunken eyes. To Genevieve's delight, Rita didn't seem to be in good condition, as she was unemployed.

Hermione was on the verge of explaining what they were doing when —

"Is that Harry?" Hermione said suddenly, craning her neck for a better view. "It is, and he's early, oh well . . .

"Harry! Harry, over here!"

She waved him over.

"You're early!" Hermione said. "We thought you were with Cho, we weren't expecting you for another hour at least!"

"Cho?" Rita said eagerly. "A _girl_?"

"No, 'Cho' is the name of a cereal box he's been snogging," Genevieve said, her voice venomous. "And watch your tone, or I might stuff you back in that jar for the fun of it."

Rita glared at her and made to grab her Quick-Quotes Quill.

"It's none of _your_ business if Harry's been with a hundred girls," Hermione snapped. "So you can put that away right now."

Rita's face lost its feverish fervor and she closed her bag, looking daggers at the both of them.

"What are you up to?" Harry asked.

"Little Miss Perfect and her friend Miss Snarky were just about to tell me when you arrived. I suppose I'm allowed to _talk_ to him, am I?"

"I suppose I'm allowed to squash a bug, am I?" Genevieve retorted in a falsely sweet voice.

Hermione ignored Genevieve. "Yes, I suppose you are," she told Rita sharply.

Rita took a large sip. "Pretty girl, is she, Harry?"

"Better than you," Genevieve shot back. "But I reckon that's an extremely low standard, isn't it?"

Rita simply glowered at her. Hermione issued a threat.

"One more question about Harry's love life and the deal's off and that's a promise."

"What deal? You haven't mentioned a deal yet, Miss Prissy, nor you, Miss Smart-Mouth, you two just told me to show up. Oh, one of these days . . ."

"Yes, yes, one of these days you'll write more horrible stories about Harry, Genevieve, and me," Hermione said with withering indifference. "Find someone who cares, why don't you?"

"They've run plenty of horrible stories about Harry this year without my help," Rita said with relish. "How has that made you feel, Harry? Betrayed? Distraught? Misunderstood?"

"Hey, Rita?" Genevieve said pleasantly. "Did I ever tell you about my father? Oh I'm so, _so_ proud of my father. He has a very important job. You see, he works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and we're very close. I tell him almost everything. Now, maybe someday, I'll be talking to him and I'll just let it slip that there is not only an illegal Animagus running around, but she is exploiting her ability to ruin people's lives. I can't imagine him being too thrilled about that."

Rita blanched. Hermione went on.

"Harry has told the Minister of Magic the truth and the Minister's too much of an idiot to believe him."

"So you actually stick to it, do you, That He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back? You stand by all this garbage Dumbledore's been telling everyone about You-Know-Who returning and you being the sole witness — "

"I wasn't the sole witness," Harry cut her off irritably. "There were a dozen-odd Death Eaters there as well. Want their names?"

"I'd love them," Rita said, enraptured. "A great bold headline: _'Potter Accuses . . .'_ A subheading: _'Harry Potter Names Death Eaters Among Us.'_ And then, a nice big photograph of you: _'Disturbed teenage survivor of You-Know-Who's attack, Harry Potter, 15, caused outrage yesterday by accusing respectable and prominent members of the Wizarding community of being Death Eaters . . .'_ "

Skeeter was almost to the point of sucking on her revolting quill when she lost her dreamy expression.

"But of course," Rita said, scowling at the both of them, "Little Miss Perfect and Miss Snarky wouldn't like that, would they?"

"As a matter of fact," Genevieve said, "Miss Snarky and Little Miss Perfect agree on this."

"That's exactly what we _do_ want," Hermione elaborated.

"You _want_ me to report what he says about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named being back?" Skeeter asked quietly, disbelief in her voice.

"Yes, we do."

"The _true_ story, mind you," Genevieve said. "Not the rubbish you and your quill usually spit out."

"All the facts," said Hermione. "Exactly as Harry reports them. He'll give you all the details, he'll tell you the names of the undiscovered Death Eaters he saw there, he'll tell you what Voldemort looks like now — oh, get a grip on yourself."

Hermione tossed a napkin at Rita, for she had flinched badly at Voldemort's name and spilled her drink on herself.

Genevieve snorted. "You're pathetic."

"The _Prophet_ wouldn't print it," Rita declared. "In case you haven't noticed, nobody believes his cock-and-bull story. Everyone thinks he's delusional. Now, if you let me write the story from that angle — "

"We don't need another story about how Harry's lost his marbles!" Hermione argued, irritated. "We've had plenty of those already, thank you! We want him given the opportunity to tell the truth!"

"There's no market for a story like that."

"You mean _Prophet_ won't print it because Fudge won't let them."

"All right, Fudge is leaning on the _Prophet_ , but it comes to the same thing. They won't print a story that shows Harry in a good light. Nobody wants to read it. It's against the public mood. This last breakout from Azkaban has got people quite worried enough. People just don't want to believe You-Know-Who's back."

"So the _Daily Prophet_ exists to tell people what they want to hear, does it?" Hermione asked scornfully.

"The truth be damned, so long as the readers are happy," Genevieve said disapprovingly.

"The _Prophet_ exists to sell itself, you silly girls," Rita spat, her eyes narrowed.

"My dad thinks it's an awful paper," Luna interjected. "He publishes important stories that he thinks the public needs to know. He doesn't care about making money."

"I'm guessing your father runs some stupid little village newsletter?" Rita said coldly. " 'Twenty-Five Ways to Mingle With Muggles' and the dates of the next Bring-and-Fly sale?"

"No, he's the editor of _The Quibbler_."

Rita snorted. " 'Important stories he thinks the public needs to know'? I could manure my garden with the contents of that rag."

"Well, this is your chance to raise the tone of it a bit," Hermione said calmly.

" _Really_ make your mark on the quality of its editions," Genevieve said cheerfully.

"Luna says her father's quite happy to take Harry's interview. That's who'll be publishing it."

Rita laughed at them. " _The Quibbler_! You think people will take him seriously if he's published in _The Quibbler_?"

"At any rate," Genevieve said, "he'll always be taken more seriously than you."

"Some people won't," Hermione continued in a determinedly civil voice. "But the _Daily Prophet_ 's version of the Azkaban breakout had some gaping holes in it. I think a lot of people will be wondering whether there isn't a better explanation of what happened, and if there's an alternative story, even if it's published in" — Hermione was choosing her words carefully — "well, an _unusual_ magazine — I think they might be rather keen to read it."

Rita considered this. "All right, let's say for a moment I'll do it. What kind of fee am I going to get?"

"I don't think Daddy exactly pays people to write for the magazine," Luna answered in her dreamy voice. "They do it because it's an honor, and, of course, to see their names in print."

"I thought your own freedom would be payment enough," Genevieve added conversationally. "But I suppose I can always spare a Knut or two."

Rita looked as though she had been slapped in the face. "I'm supposed to do this _for free_?"

"Well, yes," Hermione said pleasantly.

"Or else . . ." Genevieve mimicked sending a letter.

"Of course," Hermione reasoned, "the _Prophet_ might give you rather a lot for an insider's account of life in Azkaban."

This seemed to force Rita to her senses. "I don't suppose I've got any choice, have I?"

"Daddy will be pleased," Luna said happily.

"Okay, Harry," Hermione addressed him. "Ready to tell the public the truth?"

"Which, I'm sure, is the first time the truth _will_ be coming out of that quill," Genevieve added.

"I suppose," he responded.

"Fire away then, Rita."

And Genevieve listened intently as Harry described what he saw, what he heard, everything. One thing became abundantly clear. This kid had gone through too much.


	12. Chapter 12: The Owl’s Escape

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

 **I want to thank everyone for reviewing and to reiterate that reviews are always welcome, so long as they are respectful and pertain to the story or my writing.**

•~0~•

Monday night, Genevieve, Fred, and George returned to the common room from watching what had been a thoroughly tragic and, frankly, depressing Quidditch practice.

"Ron and Ginny not here?" Fred asked as they sat down at a table with Harry and Hermione. Harry shook his head no. "Good. We were watching their practice. They're going to be slaughtered. They're complete rubbish without us."

"No, Katie's really good," Genevieve reminded him. "It's just . . . most everyone else."

"Come on, Ginny's not bad," George pointed out. "Actually, I dunno how she got so good, seeing how we never let her play with us . . ."

Genevieve snorted. "You were prats, all right, but Ginny's smarter. She found a way."

"She's been breaking into your broom shed in the garden since the age of six and taking each of your brooms in turn when you weren't looking," Hermione explained in greater detail without looking up from her stack of Ancient Rune books.

"Oh," George said, pleasantly surprised. "Well — that'd explain it."

"Has Ron saved a goal yet?" Hermione asked.

"Well, he can do it if he doesn't think anyone's watching him," Fred said. "So all we have to do is ask the crowd to turn their backs and talk among themselves every time the Quaffle goes up his end on Saturday."

"But he can be really good when he's on form," Genevieve said optimistically. "It's just nerves."

Fred stood up and stared out the window.

"You know, Quidditch was about the only thing in this place worth staying for."

Hermione glared at him reproachfully. "You've got exams coming!"

"Told you already, we're not fussed about N.E.W.T.s. The Snackboxes are ready to roll, we found out how to get rid of those boils, just a couple drops of murtlap essence sorts them, Lee put us onto it . . ."

"Can't you wait it out till the end of the year?" Genevieve asked hopefully; her best mates abandoning her didn't seem like an ideal situation.

"Dunno," George said. He steered the discussion back to Quidditch. "I dunno if I even want to watch this match. If Zacharias Smith beats us I might have to kill myself."

"Kill him, more like," Fred corrected.

"Seconded," Genevieve said.

"That's the trouble with Quidditch," Hermione said offhandedly, "it creates all this bad feeling and tension between the Houses."

Genevieve gaped at her. She'd never played it, heaven forbid she ever did, but she loved the game, and this comment not only offended her, but Fred, George, and Harry as well.

"Well, it does!" Hermione insisted. "It's only a game, isn't it?"

"Hermione," Harry said with exasperation, "you're good on feelings and stuff, but you just don't understand about Quidditch."

"Maybe not, but at least my happiness doesn't depend on Ron's goalkeeping ability."

Genevieve sighed and shook her head. As she and the twins headed to their respective dormitories, she turned back.

"You're not really thinking of leaving, are you?" Genevieve asked quietly.

Fred shrugged. George looked down. "What've we got to stay for?"

"Katie!" she exclaimed. "Lee! Taking down Umbridge! Dumbledore!"

Fred continued to look unconvinced. George didn't meet her eyes.

"Me," she added more quietly.

They looked up. "Yeah," George said. "I reckon we could stay a few more weeks at least."

"After all," Fred smirked, "what would you do without us?"

Genevieve smiled slightly, but still was worried. They really were taking leaving seriously . . .

The Quidditch match was an absolute nightmare, bordering on traumatic for any Gryffindor who showed up. _At least,_ Genevieve thought, _there was only twenty-two minutes of torture._ And she had counted, precisely, wanting to look anywhere but the field and instead anxiously glaring at her watch.

Ginny had saved them all. As the Seeker, she caught the Snitch and Gryffindor lost by only ten points. The common room was depressed enough to look as though a mass epidemic had killed half their parents. Ron, who had allowed the Quaffle to fly past him a record fourteen times, sulked in the corner.

Genevieve, Fred, and George approached Harry and Hermione again. Fred spoke first.

"I haven't got the heart to take the mickey out of him, even. Mind you . . . when he missed the fourteenth . . ."

Fred flailed his arms wildly.

"Well, I'll save it for parties, eh?"

"Supposing he lives that long," Genevieve said, looking at Ron sympathetically. "Can someone die of shame and depression?"

"For once, I hope not," George said.

•~0~•

Monday morning, Fred and Genevieve looked up from breakfast to see Hermione, Harry, Luna, and Ron ripping open a mess of letters, more and more owls surrounding them.

"I'm guessing the newest edition of _The Quibbler_ came out," Genevieve said.

They exchanged grins and rushed over, helping sort through the letters.

"This one's in two minds," Fred said. "Says you don't come across as a mad person, but he really doesn't want to believe You-Know-Who's back so he doesn't know what to think now . . . Blimey, what a waste of parchment . . ."

"Hang on," Genevieve said enthusiastically, flipping through a long response, "I've got someone who . . . admits you seem sane enough but thinks you're making it all up for the attention and . . . some other not-so-nice stuff . . ."

"Here's another one you've convinced, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. " 'Having read your side of the story I am forced to the conclusion that the _Daily Prophet_ has treated you very unfairly . . . Little though I want to think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, I am forced to accept that you are telling the truth . . .' Oh this is wonderful!"

"Another one who thinks you're barking," Ron said, "but this one says you've got her converted, and she now thinks you're a real hero — she's put in a photograph too — wow — "

"What is going on here?" A sickeningly familiar voice asked. Genevieve turned around. "Why have you got all these letters, Mr. Potter?" Umbridge pressed on.

"Well, you see," Genevieve explained with a condescending air, "people take that thingy — you know, the writing thingy? I believe you call it a quill — and they scratch it on some paper, and _words_ come out. It's rather amazing."

Umbridge glowered at her. "I repeat, why have you got all these letters, Mr. Potter?"

"Is that a crime now?" Fred demanded. "Getting mail?"

"Be careful, Miss Snow and Mr. Weasley, or I shall have to put you both in detention. Well, Mr. Potter?"

Harry paused, then answered, "People have written to me because I gave an interview. About what happened to me last June."

Umbridge's eyes narrowed. "An interview? What do you mean?"

"I mean," Harry said in the same manner Genevieve had spoken just before, "a reporter asked me questions and I answered them. Here."

He tossed _a The Quibbler_ at Umbridge, who caught it and, upon reading the cover, turned a shade of violet even Tonks wouldn't try for her hair.

"When did you do this?" she demanded.

"Last Hogsmeade weekend."

She gave him a withering look. "There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you, Mr. Potter. How you dare . . . how you could . . . I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week's worth of detentions."

She stormed away.

Before lunch, countless signs had been posted all over the school announcing that anyone found to have _The Quibbler_ would be expelled.

Genevieve laughed when she read it.

"She's the biggest imbecile to walk these halls in a long time," Genevieve told Katie. "All she did was ensure that _everyone_ would read it."

And they did. Many students seemed to have it memorized, even. When Umbridge forced them to show her the contents of their books and pockets, they disguised their copies or wiped them. Genevieve herself bewitched her copy to appear to be an excerpt from _Hogwarts, A History._

People were flooding Genevieve and the lot of her friends with questions about Harry and his interview. To Genevieve's amusement, Fred and George had hung an Enlarged front cover of _The Quibbler_ in the common room that spat out phrases like, "The Ministry are morons" and "Eat dung, Umbridge."

At long last, people finally seemed to believe Harry once again.

•~0~•

Genevieve had just been finishing dinner, and studying with it, when a scream echoed through the Great Hall, coming from the entrance hall. She rushed out.

A woman she only assumed could be Professor Trelawney was standing in the center of the entrance hall, looking particularly distressed. Her trunks lay before her.

"No!" The woman protested. "NO! This cannot be happening . . . It cannot . . . I refuse to accept it!"

"You didn't realize this was coming?" Umbridge's voice sounded. "Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather, you must surely have realized that your pitiful performance during my inspections, and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable you would be sacked?"

"You c-can't! You c-can't sack me! I've b-been here sixteen years! H-Hogwarts is m-my h-home!"

"It _was_ your home," Umbridge said with sickening pleasure, "until an hour ago, when the Minister of Magic countersigned the order for your dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from this hall. You are embarrassing us."

Professor McGonagall strode up to the sobbing Trelawney and comforted her. "There, there, Sybill . . . Calm down . . . Blow your nose on this . . ."

McGonagall produced a handkerchief. "You are not going to have to leave Hogwarts . . ."

"Oh really, Professor McGonagall?" Umbridge challenged. "And your authority for that statement is . . . ?"

"That would be mine."

Dumbledore entered the hall.

"Yours, Professor Dumbledore?" Umbridge laughed. "I'm afraid you do not understand the position. I have here" — Umbridge withdrew a scroll from her robes — "an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister of Magic. Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power to inspect, place upon probation, and sack any teacher she — that is to say, I — feel is not performing up to the standard required by the Ministry of Magic. I have decided that Professor Trelawney is not up to scratch. I have dismissed her."

Dumbledore smiled. "You are quite right, of course, Professor Umbridge. As High Inquisitor you have every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. I am afraid that the power to do that still resides with the headmaster, and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to live at Hogwarts."

Professor Trelawney looked up at Dumbledore from her hysteria. "No — no, I'll g-go, Dumbledore! I sh-shall l-leave Hogwarts and s-seek my fortune elsewhere — "

"No," Dumbledore said almost forcefully. "It is my wish that you remain, Sybill."

Dumbledore addressed McGonagall. "Might I ask you to escort Sybill back upstairs, Professor McGonagall?"

"Of course. Up you get, Sybill."

With Sprout and Flitwick's help, McGonagall and Trelawney walked by Umbridge, Flitwick levitating the trunks, and up the staircase.

"And what," Umbridge said acidly, "are you going to do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodgings?"

"Oh, that won't be a problem," Dumbledore spoke so conversationally it was as though she had just asked his opinion on the weather. "You see, I have already found us a new Divination teacher, and he will prefer lodgings on the ground floor."

"You've found — ? _You've_ found? Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree Twenty-two — "

"— the Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if — and only if — the headmaster is unable to find one," Dumbledore completed. "And I am happy to say that on this occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you?"

A centaur with white-blond hair and almost mesmerizingly blue eyes galloped in.

"This is Firenze. I think you'll find him suitable."

Umbridge simply stared. Though shocked, Genevieve smirked. Umbridge had sacked a human and gained a half-breed. Karma worked wonders.

•~0~•

Classes continued to get increasingly stressful as N.E.W.T.s drew nearer. Genevieve found herself studying in nearly all of her free time. Fred and George continued to sell their merchandise. Umbridge continued to give useless lessons. The D.A. became Genevieve's main escape from life, a way to leave her world and worries behind.

Genevieve closed her eyes in concentration. She thought of meeting Charlie, of discovering the Marauder's Map and its uses with Fred and George, of her father. She thought of every happy memory she could remember and focused on it.

 _"Expecto Patronum!"_

Instead of the usual silvery wisp, something else erupted out of her wand. It flew around the room, flapping its magnificent wings, and doubled back to her. Genevieve beamed. Soaring her way was a snowy owl. It circled around her.

"I always _did_ think of Hedwig and I as kindred spirits," Genevieve joked.

Behind her, the door opened. Genevieve lowered her wand as she saw who had entered. A house-elf hurried straight up to Harry.

"Hi, Dobby!" Harry greeted. "What are you — what's wrong?"

Every person in the room watched Dobby without talking, without breathing. The Patronuses faded into darkness.

"Harry Potter, sir . . ." the elf gasped out, shaking, "Harry Potter, sir . . . Dobby has come to warn you . . . but the house-elves have been warned not to tell . . ."

Genevieve flinched, for at that moment Dobby made a break for it, zooming into the wall. Harry grabbed him to prevent the elf from hurting himself further, though the numerous hats on his head seemed to have protected him.

"What's happened, Dobby?"

"Harry Potter . . . she . . . she . . ."

Dobby punched himself. Harry gripped his free hand.

"Who's 'she,' Dobby?"

Dobby mouthed something to Harry.

"Umbridge?"

Dobby nodded, but before he could harm himself, Harry seized him more tightly.

"What about her? Dobby — she hasn't found out about this — about us — about the D.A.?"

Genevieve watched with horror, unable to move.

"Is she coming?" Harry whispered.

Dobby wailed, "Yes, Harry Potter, yes!"

Harry stood up from his crouch. He eyed the students urgently.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? RUN!"

Her feet came unglued from the floor. Genevieve and the twins dashed away, somehow making it out amidst the chaos. They made a quick nod to each other and hid behind the closest secret door in the castle. Genevieve silently vowed to thank Lupin and Sirius later; it was their map that taught them.

Genevieve didn't know how long they stayed there, not saying a single word, not making a single sound. When they finally agreed it was safe to leave, the hallway was deserted. They made their way back to the common room and to their dormitories as quickly and quietly as they could.

Thoughts kept racing through Genevieve's mind as she climbed into bed. Had everyone managed to get away? How did Umbridge know? What would be the consequences? What now?


	13. Chapter 13: How to Say Goodbye

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Dumbledore was gone. He wasn't in Azkaban, and he wasn't dead, but he was gone. Gone from Hogwarts. Gone from the school he cared so much about. Fudge and his stupid pride. Umbridge and her sickening power. Percy and his unwavering idiocy. Dumbledore and his nobility.

Dumbledore had taken the fall for the D.A. Harry told them. Cho's friend, Marietta Edgecomb, had ratted them out. Dumbledore had escaped before Fudge and his goon, Dawlish, and Kingsley, forced to play along, could apprehend him.

Umbridge was now headmistress. _Umbridge._ Appointed by the Minister of Magic himself. Genevieve shook her head, numb.

All anyone talked about was how Dumbledore had managed to escape two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister of Magic, and his Junior Assistant, Percy. Marietta had fallen victim to a jinx Hermione had put on the parchment on which they'd all signed up for the D.A. She told, and she was paying her price. She was in the hospital wing, with blemishes unimaginable decorating her face.

Genevieve, Fred, and George were walking down the first floor during break, discussing it.

"With Dumbledore gone and Umbridge in charge, we might as well leave soon," Fred said.

George nodded. Genevieve looked between them.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked. "You really want to go?"

They thought for a moment, then nodded again.

"I just can't do the rest of the year like this," George said. "Dumbledore gone, and that _hag_ in charge."

Genevieve nodded. "If that's what you want, I'll support you."

"That's what we want," Fred said without hesitation. "Of course," he added thoughtfully, "we're not going to leave before we cause as much chaos as humanly possible."

Genevieve laughed.

"Now, now, Gryffindors having fun? We can't have that."

Montague, the Slytherin Quidditch captain sauntered up to them.

"I'm afraid I'll have to dock you all some points."

"You can't dock House points," Genevieve spat. "You're not even a prefect."

"No," Montague sneered, "I'm something better."

He gestured to a small sliver _I_ on his robes.

"A member of the Inquistorial Squad," he said proudly. "Select group of students that Professor Umbridge has deemed loyal to the Ministry of Magic, and I _can_ dock points. So, let's see . . ."

Montague stopped for a moment in mock deliberation. Genevieve noticed something. She nudged Fred and nodded her head toward a certain Cabinet. He grinned slightly.

"I think I'll dock points for being poor, for you two," Montague sniggered. "And double the people, double the poverty, double the points, so — "

He never finished his sentence, for at that moment Genevieve darted towards the Cabinet and pulled open a door. Fred and George stuffed Montague into it, and Genevieve snapped it shut.

"What's that?" Genevieve asked the Cabinet pleasantly. "I don't think I can hear you. Well, goodbye, Montague, and I hope the other end of this is broken."

They all burst out laughing.

"Well, that's one way to take care of it," Fred said briskly. "Now, I believe break is nearly over . . ."

A few hours later, they found Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ernie staring at the House point hourglasses.

"Noticed, have you?" Fred said grimly.

"Malfoy just docked us all about fifty points," Harry said angrily.

"Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break," George said.

"What do you mean, 'tried'?" Ron asked instantly, knowing too well what the twins were capable of.

"He never managed to get all the words out," Fred answered, "due to the fact that we forced him headfirst into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor."

Hermione was appalled. "But you'll get into terrible trouble!"

"Not by me," Genevieve said calmly. "And thing is, Hermione, I don't think Montague's got any control over where he goes, and I'm sure not going to look for him."

"Besides," Fred replied, "we'll not get in trouble until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, like Gen here said, I dunno where we sent him. Anyway . . . we've decided we don't care about getting into trouble anymore."

"Have you ever?" Hermione questioned.

" 'Course we have," George responded. "Never been expelled, have we?"

"We've always known where to draw the line," Fred said.

"We might have put a toe across it occasionally," George admitted.

"But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem."

"But now?" Ron asked as though he was scared of the answer.

"Well, now — " George began.

"— what with Dumbledore gone —"

"— we reckon a bit of mayhem —"

"— is exactly what our dear new Head deserves."

"You mustn't!" Hermione protested. "You really mustn't! She'd love a reason to expel you!"

"You don't get it, Hermione, do you?" Fred asked, still smiling. "We don't care about staying anymore. We'd walk out right now if we weren't determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first. So anyway, phase one is about to begin. I'd get in the Great Hall for lunch if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can't have had anything to do with it."

"Anything to do with what?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"You'll see," George guaranteed. "Run along, now."

Genevieve turned to the twins.

"You know I wish you all the luck," she said. "And trust me, I want to be doing this just as much as you. But I actually _care_ about my education, so I'll just be in the Great Hall."

They laughed, and Genevieve hurried away, reaching the Great Hall just in time.

 _BOOM!_

The floor below her shook violently, and Genevieve tripped. Her pesky ankle, sprained again. Hermione stood up and helped her to the table. They laughed at the sights. Countless fireworks had been set off inside the castle. Dragons, rockets, Catherine wheels flashed before her eyes.

Umbridge and Filch were desperately trying to get rid of them.

"Hurry, Filch, hurry!" Umbridge screeched. "They'll be all over the school unless we do something — _Stupefy!"_

Her spell didn't Stun it. The rocket exploded, destroying a painting, with its inhabitant barely escaping.

"Don't Stun them, Filch!" Umbridge admonished as though it was his fault.

"Right you are, Headmistress!" Filch grabbed a broom and tried to hit them, which only set the broom on fire.

Umbridge continued to dash around the school all afternoon, getting rid of fireworks that were disrupting the classes. Though Genevieve knew the teachers could easily handle the lot of them, they all seemed to be quite reluctant to do so, preferring to allow Umbridge to have to go through the trouble.

Fred and George were the heroes of Gryffindor, and were treated so that night. Hermione even complimented their fireworks.

"Thanks," George said. "Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs. Only thing is, we used our whole stock, we're going to have to start again from scratch now . . ."

"It was worth it, though," Fred said.

"Agreed," Genevieve snickered. "Umbridge was the real show."

She sat down at the nearest table (Madam Pomfrey has mended her ankle soon after the setting off) and, instead of pulling out her textbooks to do homework or study, began to read _Lord of the Flies._

•~0~•

As the Easter holidays progressed, Fred and George's departure grew closer and closer. They had even managed to get a place for their store in Diagonal Alley. _Really_ , Genevieve told herself, _they'll be leaving any day now._

And it didn't bother her. That is, she didn't want it to. But it seemed to Genevieve that Umbridge — and Voldemort — were taking everything from her. She couldn't send actual letters to Charlie, she couldn't talk to her dad either, she no longer had the D.A., Dumbledore was gone, Hagrid was on probation, and now the twins were leaving too.

But if this was what they wanted, who was she to stand in their way?

On the last day of the holidays, Genevieve, Fred, and George sat down beside Harry, Hermione, and Ron, who were trying to choose their careers for their own upcoming career consultations. They'd gotten word from Ginny that Harry wanted to talk to Sirius about something.

"Hey," Genevieve greeted.

"Ginny's has a word with us about you," Fred told Harry. "She says you need to talk to Sirius?"

"What?" Hermione froze.

"Yeah . . ." Harry said somewhat awkwardly, "yeah, I think I'd like — "

"Don't be so ridiculous," Hermione interrupted sharply. "With Umbridge groping around in the fires and frisking all the owls?"

"Where there's a will, there's a way," Genevieve reminded her.

"We definitely think we can find a way around that," George agreed. "It's a simple matter of causing a diversion. Now, you might have noticed that we have been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the Easter holidays?"

"What was the point, we asked ourselves, of disrupting leisure time?" Fred said. "No point at all, we answered ourselves. And of course, we'd have messed up people's studying too, which would be the very last thing we'd want to do."

"Per my suggestion," Genevieve added.

"But it's business as usual from tomorrow. And if we're going to be causing a lot of uproar, why not do it so that Harry can have his chat with Sirius?"

"Yes, but _still_ ," Hermione persisted almost condescendingly, "even if you _do_ cause a diversion, how is Harry supposed to talk to him?"

"Hermione," Genevieve said cheerfully, "I've found that a self-righteous person will take every measure to watch others, but leave themselves unwatched."

"Umbridge's office," Harry put together.

"Precisely."

"Are — you — insane?" Hermione looked alarmed now. Ron didn't dare add to the conversation.

"I don't think so," Harry said, unconcerned.

"And how are you going to get in there in the first place?"

"Sirius's knife."

"Excuse me?"

"Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that'll open any lock," Harry explained. "So even if she's bewitched the door so _Alohomora_ won't work, which I bet she has — "

"What do you think about this?" Hermione forced Ron into the conversation.

"I dunno," he said cautiously. "If Harry wants to do it, it's up to him, isn't it?"

"Spoken like a true friend and Weasley," Fred said almost proudly. "Right, then. We're thinking of doing it tomorrow, just after lessons, because it should cause maximum impact if everybody's back in the corridors — Harry, we'll set it off in the east wing somewhere, draw her right away from her own office — I reckon we should be able to guarantee you, what, twenty minutes?"

"Easy," George assured.

"So keep the cups of tea to a minimum, Harry," Genevieve warned.

"What sort of diversion is it?" Ron asked warily.

"You'll see, little bro." They stood up. "At least, you will if you trot along to Gregory the Smarmy's corridor round about five o'clock tomorrow."

As they walked away, Genevieve asked, "So, tomorrow?"

The twins nodded. "Tomorrow."

"Sure you're going to be fine without us?" George asked gently.

Genevieve forced a smile. "Without a couple of gits like you around? Positive."

"Ouch," George said, smirking despite himself.

"Our little Genevieve's gone and stabbed us right in the heart, she has," Fred snickered.

•~0~•

The Portable Swamp worked like a charm. It caused screams and yelps and, best of all, attracted Umbridge like a paperclip to a magnet. Filch practically peed himself with delight when Umbridge allowed him to retrieve the Approval for Whipping forms, scurrying off and out of sight.

Everyone, the Inquisitorial Squad, teachers, students, ghosts, and Peeves surrounded Fred and George, who were doing a good job of acting like they hadn't expected to be caught.

"So!" Umbridge said with an air of victory. "So . . . you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"

"Pretty amusing, yeah," Fred admitted, almost grinning.

Filch reappeared. "I've got the form, Headmistress. I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting . . . Oh, let me do it now . . ."

"Very good, Argus," Umbridge praised. She looked back at Fred and George. "You two are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."

"You know what?" Fred said conversationally. "I don't think we are."

He looked at George.

"George, I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," George replied.

"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?"

"Definitely."

Together, they raised their wands and cried, _"Accio Brooms!"_

Their brooms came soaring towards them, still bound to an iron peg Umbridge had used to fasten them to the wall. They climbed on.

"We won't be seeing you," Fred assured Umbridge.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," George said.

Fred looked back at the crowd of students. He caught Genevieve's eye and smiled at her. "If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley — Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," Fred announced. "Our new premises!"

"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," George said, indicating Umbridge.

"STOP THEM!" Umbridge screeched, but they had already zoomed into the air.

Fred turned back one last time.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

Genevieve laughed and cheered with the rest of the students as Peeves saluted the twins. Fred and George flew away into the sunset.


	14. Chapter 14: Small Problems & Bad Dreams

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

 **In order for the story to better make sense, I have edited Chapter Five of Snow Melts. It is still, quite stubbornly, centered, but I plan to go back and fix it once I am finished writing the series.**

 **dark-angel-0312: Thank you so much for the kind words, and yes, yes, you will learn who killed Genevieve's mother (and why). She will, sadly but true to character, be devastated by Sirius's death, and it will hit her extremely hard for reasons you will soon learn.**

•~0~•

Countless students were practically falling over themselves, trying to replace Fred and George, who had left for themselves a rather spectacular legend, in mischief. There were so many, in fact, that Umbridge, Filch, and the Inquisitorial Squad couldn't catch any of them. Dungbombs and Stinkpellets were dropped left and right, Skiving Snackboxes enabled entire classes to escape Umbridge, a niffler, an animal that searched for valuables, was even set loose in Umbridge's office, which was promptly torn apart.

Peeves was ensuring that the school fall into bedlam. He toppled tables, covered teachers (usually Umbridge) in chalk by zooming through blackboards, trapped Mrs. Norris multiple times, and seemed to quite enjoy the hobby of annoying Umbridge by blowing raspberries whenever she wanted to speak.

The staff, like before, seemed rather disinclined to help and more partial to watching Umbridge struggle through it herself.

Genevieve grabbed the nearest spare piece of parchment, scrawled a note, and chucked it at Peeves' head. He was extremely offended — until he read it. A very evil smile graced his face. He soared away, still clutching the paper.

Genevieve had already warned the Gryffindors of her Defense Against the Dark Arts class not to use the Skiving Snackboxes as an excuse to leave that day, though to keep their Bubble-Head Charm for a few minutes. Umbridge seemed very pleased that they had all decided to stay in class. She was about to instruct them to begin reading another chapter when —

 _BOOM!_

Peeves catapulted into the room, breaking the door, carrying magically Enlarged ink balloons that Genevieve may or may not have hid in an empty classroom. At lightning speed, he hurled them at Umbridge, who was too shocked to shield herself. Ten minutes and twenty-five balloons later, Umbridge was unrecognizable and the class was almost suffocating from laughing.

Genevieve imagined Umbridge was probably red in the face as she ordered them out, but the sheer hilarity of it all was too much to even think of the possible consequences.

Professor McGonagall walked by the room. She peeked in to see Umbridge, covered in ink and huffing rather loudly.

"Would you like a handkerchief, Dolores?" asked McGonagall pleasantly.

Umbridge marched to the broken door and slammed it in her face. The door fell off its hinges and landed on her.

The class was in uproar. Still laughing, they headed back to their dormitories to change.

•~0~•

It was the final match of the season: Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. Genevieve sat anxiously beside Harry and Hermione in the stands, her eyes darting instinctively to Ron.

Lee called out the players as they entered the field, but it was much more subdued than usual. Genevieve knew he felt the same as she had about the twins leaving.

". . . Bradley . . . Davies . . . Chang. And they're off! And Davies takes the Quaffle, he dodges Johnson, he dodges Bell, he dodges Spinner as well . . . He going straight for the goal! He's going to shoot — and — and — " Lee swore into the microphone. "And he's scored."

Genevieve, Harry, and Hermione groaned as the Slytherins began a rousing cry of "Weasley Is Our King."

"Harry," Hagrid said from behind them. "Hermione, Genevieve . . ."

He looked around nervously.

"Listen," he said quietly, "can yeh come with me? Now? While ev'ryone's watchin' the match?"

"Er . . . can't it wait, Hagrid?" Harry asked. "Till the match is over?"

"No," Hagrid said firmly. "No, Harry, it's gotta be now . . . while ev'ryone's lookin' the other way . . . Please?"

Genevieve stared up at him. He was still extremely injured. Whatever had hurt him originally was still doing it.

" 'Course," Harry agreed, noticing the same thing, " 'course we'll come . . ."

They exited the pitch as quickly as possible.

"I 'ppreciate this, you three, I really do," Hagrid said. "I jus' hope she doesn' notice us goin' . . ."

"You mean Umbridge?" Harry supplied. "She won't, she's got her whole Inquisitorial Squad sitting with her, didn't you see? She must be expecting trouble at the match."

"Yeah, well, a bit o' trouble wouldn' hurt," Hagrid said, still looking around cautiously. They walked toward his cabin. "Give is more time . . ."

"What is it, Hagrid?" Hermione asked.

"Are you okay?" Genevieve said. Both girls looked at him with concern.

"Yeh — yeh'll see in a mo'." He glanced back. "Hey — did someone jus' score?"

"It'll be Ravenclaw," Harry sighed.

"Good . . . good . . ." Hagrid said, not really listening. "Tha's good . . ."

Hagrid led them into the forest, deep into the forest. There was a rather surprising lack of terrifying creatures. Genevieve and the others were almost running to keep up with him, eventually lighting their wands in order to see. Hagrid stopped.

"Maybe we bes' jus' stop fer a momen', so I can . . . fill yeh in. Before we ge' there, like."

"Good!" Hermione said as she scrambled back to her feet; Hagrid's abrupt stop had caused her to fall backward.

"Righ'. Well . . . see . . . the thing is . . . Well, there's a good chance I'm goin' ter be gettin' the sack any day now," he started.

"But you've lasted this long — " Hermione said reassuringly. "What makes you think — "

"Umbridge reckons it was me that put tha' niffler in her office."

Harry seemed keen to ask if it was, but Genevieve overrode him.

"Damn. That was Lee," she said. "I'll get him to lay off on it."

Hagrid shook his head. "Won' matter. Anythin' ter do with magical creatures an' she thinks it's got somethin' ter do with me. Yeh know she's bin lookin' fer a chance ter get rid of me ever since I got back. I don' wan' ter go, o' course, but if it wasn' fer . . . well . . . the special circumstances I'm abou' ter explain to yeh, I'd leave righ' now, before she's go' the chance ter do it in front o' the whole school, like she did with Trelawney."

Genevieve tried to speak, as did Harry and Hermione, but Hagrid kept on.

"It's not the end o' the world, I'll be able ter help Dumbledore once I'm outta here, I can be useful ter the Order. An' you lot's have Grubbly-Plank, yeh'll — yeh'll get through yer exams fine . . ." His voice broke. Genevieve continued to watch him worriedly.

"Don' worry abou' me. Look, I wouldn' be tellin' yer this all if I didn' have ter. See, if I go . . . well, I can' leave withou' . . . withou' tellin' someone . . . because I'll — I'll need you three ter help me. An' Ron, if he's willin'."

"Of course we'll help you," Harry said without hesitation. "What do you want us to do?"

"Hagrid," Genevieve said. "You've helped me multiple times. I'll do _anything_ for you."

He patted them so forcefully that Genevieve was flung into him, while Harry got shunted into a tree.

"I knew yeh'd say yes, but I won' . . . never . . . forget . . . Well . . . c'mon . . . jus' a little bit further through here . . . Watch yerselves, now, there's nettles . . ."

They followed him for a bit farther. Then Hagrid raised an arm to block them continuing.

"Really easy," he whispered. "Very quiet, now . . ."

They walked slowly and quietly, until they stopped. Genevieve's jaw dropped.

"Sleepin'," Hagrid said.

"Hagrid," Hermione said, looking petrified, "Who is he?"

"Why would you bring him here?" Genevieve asked gently. "Why him?"

"Hagrid, you told us," Hermione whimpered, "you told us none of them wanted to come!"

"Well — no — he didn' want ter come," Hagrid said sheepishly. "But I had ter bring him, I had ter!"

"But why?" Hermione seemed close to tears. "Why — what — oh, _Hagrid_!"

"I knew if I jus' got him back, an' — an' taught him a few manners — I'd be able ter take him outside an' show ev'ryone he's harmless."

"Giants aren't exactly known for being harmless, Hagrid," Genevieve said tentatively as Hermione scoffed, "Harmless!"

"He's been hurting you all this time, hasn't he?" Hermione said. "That's why you've had all these injuries!"

"He don' know his own strength!" Hagrid said defensively. "An' he's gettin' better, he's not fightin' so much anymore — "

Hermione cut across him. "So this is why it took you two months to get home! Oh Hagrid, why did you bring him back if he didn't want to come, wouldn't he have been happier with his own people?"

"They were all bullyin' him, Hermione, 'cause he's so small!"

"Small? _Small?"_

"Hermione — Look at him!" Genevieve said impatiently. "Most giants are at least twenty feet; this one looks about sixteen, so yes, _small_."

"Hermione, I couldn' leave him," Hagrid said pleadingly. "See — he's my brother!"

"Hagrid, when you say 'brother'," Harry said, now he had been given a moment to speak, "do you mean — ?"

"Well — half-brother. Turns out me mother brook up with another giant when she left me dad, an' she went an' had Grawp here — "

"Grawp?"

"Yeah . . . well, tha's what it sounds like when he says his name. He don' speak a lot of English . . . I've bin tryin' ter teach him . . . Anyway, she don' seem ter have liked him much more'n she liked me . . . See, with giantesses, what counts is producin' good big kids, and he's always been a bit on the runty side fer a giant — like Genevieve said, on'y sixteen foot — "

"Oh yes, tiny! Absolutely minuscule!"

"He was bein' kicked around by all o' them — I jus' couldn' leave him — "

"Did Madame Maxime want to bring him back?" Harry asked.

"She — well, she could see it was right important ter me. Bu' — bu' she got a bit tired of him after a while, I must admit . . . so we split up on the journey home . . . She promised not ter tell anyone though . . ."

"How on earth did you get him back without anyone noticing?" Harry asked with a bit of wonder.

"Well, tha's why it took so long, see. Could on'y travel by nigh' an' through wild country an' stuff. 'Course, he covers the ground pretty well when he wants ter, but he kep' wantin' ter go back . . ."

"Oh Hagrid, why on earth didn't you let him!" Hermione chided, sitting down on a nearby tree which looked like Grawp had pulled it out of the ground. "What do you think you're going to do with a violent giant who doesn't even want to be here!"

"Well, now — 'violent' — tha's a bit harsh. I'll admit he mighta taken a couple o' swings at me when he's bin in a bad mood, but he's gettin' better, loads better, settlin' down well . . ."

"What are those ropes for, then?" Harry pointed out.

Genevieve bit her lip as she stared at the roped binding Grawp. This wasn't going well.

"You have to keep him tied up?" Hermione asked with exasperation.

"Well . . . yeah . . . See — it's like I say — he doesn' really know his strength."

The lack of terrifying creatures suddenly made sense to Genevieve.

"So what is it you want Harry and Gen and Ron and me to do?" Hermione asked.

"Look after him," Hagrid said, his voice hoarse. "After I'm gone."

Genevieve nodded, while the other two looked positively unhappy.

"What — what does that involve, exactly?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Not food or anythin'! He can get his own food, no problem. Birds an' deer an' stuff . . . No, it's company he needs. If I jus' knew someone was carryin' in tryin' ter help him a bit . . . teachin' him, yeh know . . ."

"You want us to teach him?" Harry asked apprehensively, gazing at the massive figure.

"Yeah — even if yeh jus' talk ter him a bit. 'Cause I reckon, if he can talk ter people, he'll understand more that we all like him really, an' want him to stay . . ."

Genevieve gave another nod. "All right."

"Yeh'll do it, then?" Hagrid asked hopefully.

"We'll . . . We'll try, Hagrid . . ." Harry said weakly.

"I knew I could count on yeh, Harry." Hagrid gave them a very broad smile. "An' I don' wan' yeh ter put herself out too much, like . . . I know yeh've got exams . . . If yeh could jus' nip down here in yer Invisibility Cloak maybe once a week an' have a little chat with him . . . I'll wake him up, then — introduce you — "

"Wha — no!" Hermione looked alarmed. "Hagrid, no, don't wake him, really, we don't need — "

Hagrid had already grabbed a long stick. He approached Grawp and poked him in the back.

The giant roared. Genevieve jumped. Birds flew away. Grawp got to his feet.

"All righ', Grawpy? Had a nice sleep, eh?"

Genevieve felt the need to back away. Harry and Hermione practically ran backwards.

"Anyway, Grawpy," continued Hagrid, now shouting. "I've brought some friends ter meet yeh. Remember, I told yeh I might? Remember when I said I might have ter go on a little trip an' leave them ter look after yeh for a bit? Remember that, Grawpy?"

The giant roared in response. He grabbed a nearby tree and began pulling it back as if he simply wanted to know how far it could go.

"Now, Grawpy, don' do that!" Hagrid reprimanded. "Tha's how you ended up pullin' up the others —

"I got company fer yeh! Company, see! Look down, yeh big buffoon, I brought yeh some friends!"

Hagrid poked the giant again. Genevieve eyed Grawp warily.

" _This_ is Harry, Grawp! Harry Potter! He migh' be comin' ter visit yeh if I have ter go away, understand?"

The giant peered down at them.

"An' this is Hermione, see? Her — " Hagrid paused. He looked at Hermione. "Would yeh mind if he called yeh Hermione, Hermione? On'y it's a difficult name fer him ter remember . . ."

"No, not at all," Hermione said in a very shrill voice.

Hagrid looked questioningly at Genevieve. She shook her head, smiling wryly. Genevieve shrugged.

"Call me Gennie," she said, with a bit of teasing sarcasm. "The last and only person to call me Gennie was my late grandfather, but _sure_ , absolutely, Grawp can call me whatever he wants."

Hagrid beamed at them.

"This is Hermy, Grawp! An' she's gonna be comin' an all! An' this is Gennie! Is'n tha' nice? Eh? Three friends fer yeh ter — GRAWPY, NO!"

Grawp's hand had reached for Hermione. Genevieve, too far to help, ducked out of the way, while Harry pulled Hermione back.

"BAD BOY, GRAWPY! VERY BAD BOY! YEH DON' GRAB — OUCH!"

Genevieve looked up to see Hagrid on the ground. Grawp was once again pulling at the tree.

"Righ'," Hagrid stood up. His nose was bleeding. "Well . . . there yeh are . . . Yeh've met him an' — an' now he'll know yeh when yeh come back. Yeah . . . well . . . Well, I reckon tha's enough fer one day. We'll — er — we'll go back now, shall we?"

Genevieve nodded, looking back at the giant, who was still enamored by the pulling of the tree. They began to walk back.

"Hold it," Hagrid said suddenly. Genevieve froze. He took an arrow out of the quiver he'd been carrying and attached it to his crossbow.

"Oh blimey." Hagrid whispered.

"I thought that we told you, Hagrid, that you are no longer welcome here?"

A centaur came into view.

"How are yeh, Magorian?"

More centaurs appeared. One addressed Magorian.

"So, we agreed, I think, what we would do if this human showed his face in the forest again?"

" 'This human' now, am I? Jus' fer stoppin' all of yeh committin' murder?"

Genevieve didn't dare interrupt to ask questions.

"You ought not to have meddled, Hagrid," Magorian said. "Our ways are not yours, nor are our laws. Firenze has betrayed and dishonored us."

"I dunno how yeh work that out. He's done nothin' except help Albus Dumbledore."

"Firenze has entered into servitude to humans," said another.

 _"Servitude!"_ Hagrid scoffed scornfully. "He's doin' Dumbledore a favor is all — "

Magorian spoke again. "He is peddling our knowledge and secrets among humans. There can be no return from such disgrace."

"If yeh say so," Hagrid shrugged, "but personally I think yeh're makin' a big mistake — "

"As are you, human," another spat, "coming back into our forest when we warned you — "

"Now, you listen get me. I'll have less of the 'our' forest, if it's all the same red you. It's not up yet you who comes an' goes in here — "

"No more is it up to you, Hagrid," Magorian said. "I shall let you pass today because you are accompanied by your young — "

"They're not his!" The other centaur said scathingly. "Students, Magorian, from up at the school! They have probably already profited from the traitor Firenze's teachings . . ."

"Nevertheless," Magorian said, "the slaughter of foals is a terrible crime . . . We do not touch the innocent. Today, Hagrid, you pass. Henceforth, stay away from this place. You forfeited the friendship of the centaurs when you helped the traitor Firenze escape us."

"I won' be kept outta the fores' by a bunch of mules like you!"

"Hagrid," Hermione squeaked, "let's go, please, let's go!"

They moved again, but Magorian called after them.

"We know what you are keeping in the forest, Hagrid! And our tolerance is waning!"

Hagrid turned back, but Genevieve, Hermione, and Harry tried desperately to push him forward. Still, he shouted, "You'll tolerate him as long as he's here, it's as much his forest as yours!"

He looked down at them, slightly shocked that they had been shoving him, having not felt a thing.

"Calm down, you three. Ruddy old nags though, eh?"

"Hagrid," Hermione said carefully, "if the centaurs don't want humans in the forest, it doesn't really look as though Harry, Genevieve, and I will be able — "

"Ah, you heard what they said. They wouldn't hurt foals — I mean, kids. Anyway, we can' let ourselves be pushed around by that lot . . ."

The Quidditch pitch came back into view.

"Was that another goal?" Hagrid wondered aloud. "Or d'you reckon the match is over?"

"I don't know," Hermione said almost bitterly. Genevieve looked at her. Her robes were ripped, her hair filthy, and she was scratched in several places. Genevieve, meanwhile, had only a few twigs In her hair.

"I reckon it's over, yeh know! Look — there's people comin' our already — if you three hurry yeh'll be able yet blend in with the crowd an' no one'll know you weren't there!"

"Good idea," Harry said. "Well . . . see you later then. Hagrid . . ."

"I don't believe him," Hermione said furiously as they rushed away. "I don't believe him. I _really_ don't believe him . . ."

"Grawp's his _family_ ," Genevieve said as Harry said, "Calm down."

Hermione decided to ignore Genevieve's comment.

"Calm down! A giant! A giant in the forest! And we're supposed to give him English lessons! Always assuming, of course, we can get past the herd of murderous centaurs on the way in and out! I — don't — _believe —_ him!"

"We haven't got to do anything yet!" Harry said quietly.

"That's right," Genevieve said. "It's only if Hagrid gets chucked out."

"Oh, come off it, you two!" Hermione stopped. "Of course he's going to be chucked and to be perfectly honest, after what we've just seen, who can blame Umbridge?"

Genevieve and Harry glowered at her. Hermione began to cry silently.

"You didn't mean that," Harry said softly.

"No . . . well . . . all right . . . I didn't," Hermione admitted. "But why does he have to make life so difficult for himself — for _us_?"

"I dunno," Genevieve and Harry said in unison. A song broke through.

 _Weasley is our King,_

 _Weasley is our King,_

 _He didn't let the Quaffle in,_

 _Weasley is our King . . ._

Genevieve cocked her head. Did she hear what she thought she heard?

"And I wish they'd stop singing that stupid song," Hermione whined, "haven't they gloated enough?"

"No," Genevieve said, furrowing her brow. "Listen—"

Hermione cut across her. "Oh, let's get in before we have to meet the Slytherins."

 _Weasley can save anything,_

 _He never leaves a single ring,_

 _That's why Gryffindors all sing:_

 _Weasley is our King._

"Hermione . . ." Harry said.

A wave of Gryffindors swarmed toward them, carrying Ron. Genevieve smiled.

 _Weasley is our King,_

 _Weasley is our King,_

 _He didn't let the Quaffle in,_

 _Weasley is our King . . ._

"No!" Hermione whispered.

"YES!" Genevieve and Harry exclaimed together.

"HARRY! HERMIONE! GEN!" Ron was talking to them, holding the Quidditch Cup. "WE DID IT! WE WON!"

Genevieve smiled. She ran forward to congratulate Katie, and the two, one sweaty and one battered, walked up to the castle together.

•~0~•

Genevieve sighed with relief. She'd just finished her last N.E.W.T., Care of Magical Creatures, and her examiner was looking distinctly impressed as he scribbled on his clipboard. She was finally done with exams.

Thankfully, she hadn't taken nearly as many N.E.W.T. subjects as O.W.L.s. Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions had gone perfectly. Thanks to the D.A., Genevieve felt confident in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Herbology and Ancient Runes has never come as easily, but she'd studied for hours on end and felt she'd managed O's, or, at the very least, E's.

Wednesday night, Genevieve and the others were sitting in the common room, exhausted. The two consecutive weeks of testing had left them drained, even days after.

Then a loud roar interrupted the drowsiness. Everyone went silent. Some people rushed to the window, but Genevieve stayed rooted to her seat. She doubted they'd be able to see what was going on from Gryffindor Tower, and she wasn't sure she wanted to see. Instead, she listened intently.

A _BANG!_ Voices.

"Be reasonable, Hagrid!"

"Reasonable be damned, yeh won' take me like this, Dawlish!"

Genevieve shut her eyes. They were going after Hagrid.

Fang's growls. Hagrid's fury given volume. Another voice.

"How dare you! How _dare_ you!"

"McGonagall," Genevieve breathed.

"Leave him alone! _Alone_ , I say! On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such — "

Genevieve covered her mouth. There was a thud. She heard McGonagall no more. _Professor,_ she though urgently. _Professor, get up!_

"COWARDS!" Hagrid again. "RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O' THAT — AN' THAT — "

Umbridge was shrieking.

"Get him, get him!"

Rustling . . . the pounding of heavy running . . . nothing.

Genevieve was numb with shock.

Shortly after, the fifth year Gryffindors, who had been taking their Astronomy O.W.L., arrived. Genevieve leapt to her feet; they'd be able to tell what had happened.

Umbridge has tried to sack Hagrid. McGonagall had come to his aid. She'd been hit in the chest with four Stunning Spells. Hagrid escaped.

"But why sack Hagrid now?" Angelina asked. "It's not like Trelawney, he's been teaching much better this year!"

"Umbridge hates part-humans," Hermione said. "She was always going to try and get Hagrid out."

"That vile old hag," Genevieve spat.

"And she thought Hagrid was putting nifflers in her office," Katie pointed out.

"Oh blimey," Lee covered his mouth. "It's me's been putting the nifflers in her office, Fred and George left me a couple. I've been levitating them in through her window — "

Genevieve rounded on him. "I told you to stop doing that!"

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"She'd have sacked him anyway," Dean Thomas said. "He was too close to Dumbeldore."

"That's true," Harry agreed.

"I just hope Professor McGonagall's all right," said a girl in Harry's year that Genevieve _thought_ was named Lavender Brown.

"They carried her back up to the castle, we watched through the dormitory window," another kid said. "She didn't look very well."

"Madame Pomfrey will sort her out," Alicia said confidently. "She's never failed yet."

And, for the first time in seven years, Genevieve's confidence in Madam Pomfrey's abilities wavered.

•~0~•

Genevieve was wandering through the castle with Ginny and Luna, lacking anything better to do. Luna was actually a very interesting person, once one got past the Nargles and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. They heard a yelling voice that sounded suspiciously like Harry's coming from a classroom. They walked in.

"Hi," Ginny said. "We recognized Harry's voice —what are you yelling about?"

"Never you mind," Harry told her harshly.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "There's no need to take that tone with me. I was only wondering whether I could help."

"Well, you can't."

"You're being rather rude, you know," Luna said calmly.

Harry swore and turned away from them. Genevieve frowned.

"Wait. Wait . . . Harry, they _can_ help," Hermione pointed out. "Listen, Harry, we need to establish whether Sirius really has left headquarters — "

"I told you, I saw — "

"Harry, I'm begging you, please! Please let's just check that Sirius isn't at home before we go charging off to London — if we find out he's not there then I swear I won't try and stop you, I'll come, I'll d-do Whatever it takes to try and save him — "

"Sirius is being tortured NOW!" Harry burst. "We haven't got time to waste — "

"I want to save Sirius just like you do," Genevieve said. "But why don't we listen to the best voice of reason we've got?" Harry shut his mouth.

"If this is a trick of V-Voldemort's," Hermione was trying to stay calm. "Harry, we've got to check, we've got to — "

"How? How're we going to check?"

Hermione took a deep breath. steeling herself.

"We'll have to use Umbridge's fire and see if we can contact him. We'll draw Umbridge away again, but we'll need lookouts, and that's where we can use Ginny and Luna. Genevieve's valuable. She's of age; she can do a lot of things we can't."

Genevieve and Ginny immediately agreed, though Luna asked, "When you say 'Sirius,' are you talking about Stubby Boardman?"

Genevieve ignored her.

"Okay," Harry relented. "Okay, if you can think of a way of doing this quickly, I'm with you, otherwise I'm going to the Department of Mysteries right now — "

"The Department of Mysteries?" Luna asked. "But how are you going to get there?"

Harry didn't answer.

"Right," Hermione thought anxiously. "Right . . . well . . . One of us has to go and find Umbridge and — and send her off in the wrong direction, keep her away from the office. They could tell her — I don't know — that Peeves is up to something awful as usual . . ."

"I'll do it," volunteered Ron. "I'll tell her Peeves is smashing up the Transfiguration department or something, it's miles away from her office. Come to think of it, I could probably persuade Peeves to do it if I met him on the way . . ."

"Okay," Hermione said, pacing. "Now, we need students away from her office while we force entry, or some Slytherin's bound to go and tip her off . . ."

"Luna and I can stand at either end of the corridor," Ginny offered, "and warn people not to go down there because someone's let off a load of Garroting Gas. Fred and George were planning to do it before they left."

"I can use the secret passage to Honeydukes," Genevieve said. When the others looked confused, she elaborated. "It'll take me a while, but I can get there and Apparate to Grimmauld Place, where I can make sure for myself that Sirius is there and come back, or I can get reinforcements from the Order. But it will take me a while to get there, so don't count on me."

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Yeah, that'll be useful."

"Okay, well then, Harry, you and I will be under the Invisibility Cloak, and we'll sneak into the office and you can talk to Sirius — "

"He's not there, Hermione!" Harry insisted.

"I mean, you can — can check whether Sirius is at home or not while I keep watch, I don't think you should be in there alone, Lee's already proved the window's a weak spot, sending those nifflers through it."

"I . . . okay, thanks."

"Right, well, even if we do all that, I don't think we're going to be able to bank on more than five minutes, not with Filch and that wretched Inquisitorial Squad floating around."

"Five minutes'll be enough. C'mon, let's go — "

 _"Now?"_ Hermione asked.

"Of course now!" Harry exploded. "What did you think, we're going to wait until after dinner or something? Hermione, Sirius is being tortured _right now_!"

"I — oh all right. You go and get the Invisibility Cloak and we'll meet you at the end of Umbridge's corridor, okay?"

Harry sprinted out of the room. Genevieve inhaled a deep breath. _All right,_ she thought, _let's save Sirius._


	15. Chapter 15: To Gain and Lose

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Genevieve set off at once. She raced through the halls faster than she'd ever run before. Slowly, thanks to Luna and Ginny's lie, the corridors around her filled up, and it became easier to slip through undetected. When she reached the third floor, she ran over to the One-Eyed Witch, tapped its hump, and muttered, out of breath, _"Dissendium."_

It opened. Genevieve slid down into the tunnel, whispered, _"Lumos!"_ and shot off. It usually took an hour to reach Honeydukes, but Genevieve was going so fast she got there in half that time.

Once in the Honeydukes cellar, she paced. She couldn't Apparate straight to Twelve Grimmauld Place, it was Unplottable. But she couldn't Apparate into the street when it was still light outside. Genevieve snapped her fingers. She'd have to Apparate directly onto the top step.

Concentrating specifically on that front step, she Disapparated. Genevieve appeared exactly where she had hoped, but to make sure Sirius was there, the easiest way was to make him come to her.

With an apologetic grimace, she rang the doorbell. Within five seconds, the door opened. Genevieve could hear Mrs. Black screaming in the background.

But it wasn't Sirius that opened the door. It was Tonks.

"Wotcher, Genevieve!" Tonks, though shocked, ushered her in. Her father, Lupin, Moody, and Kingsley were there as well.

Genevieve huffed, having not taken a deep breath since before she'd left.

"Is Sirius here?" she wheezed.

Tonks looked at her incredulously. "Of course he's here! He's upstairs, tending to Buckbeak. Somehow that hippogriff managed to get injured."

Genevieve didn't stop. "Have any of you spoken to Harry today, through the Floo?"

"No . . ." Lupin answered this time. He looked alarmed. "Genevieve, what's going on?"

Genevieve shook her head. "I need to talk to Sirius. I'll explain in a moment, but the short version is: Hermione was right and I think they're all in trouble."

Despite Moody's growls and the others' protests, Genevieve dashed upstairs.

"Genevieve!" Sirius said as she burst into the room. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at school!"

She disregarded his question. "Have you talked to Harry today, through the Floo?"

"No," Sirius thought for a moment. "But I did recently get a rather strange communication from Snape, making sure I was still home."

"Then they're probably all in trouble." And without further ado, Genevieve launched into the story.

"I didn't get the full picture, but Harry had a vision, a false vision, apparently, that you were being tortured by Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione convinced him to wait and try to find out first whether it was true, by using Umbridge's office again to talk to you via the Floo. But if you didn't talk to Harry, and none of the others talked to him, then he probably thinks you're nearly dead right now, and they're most likely tearing off to the Ministry as we speak, where Voldemort will undoubtedly be waiting for them."

Sirius's eyes widened. They rushed downstairs.

Tonks, Lupin, Moody, Kingsley, and her father were all standing up, apparently preparing to go somewhere.

"We just got word from Snape," Moody growled. "Potter thinks you're a captive of — "

"Yes, yes, I know," Sirius said impatiently. "Genevieve's just told me. Now let's go."

"You're not going anywhere," Lupin said. "You need to stay behind. Dumbledore will be here any minute, and you need to tell him what's going on."

"Like hell if you think I'm going to wait around here while my _godson_ thinks I'm dying!" said Sirius.

Genevieve stepped forward.

"I'm going with you, and so is Sirius. We've both been sitting on the sidelines long enough. Harry's taught me defense, and Sirius can fight for himself too. I'm of age, practically gone from Hogwarts already, and like Sirius said, neither of us are willing to wait here while our friends and family fight for their lives."

Surprisingly, nobody disagreed with her. Instead, while Sirius was instructing Kreacher to inform Dumbledore of everything, Moody said, "Just like your mother, you are."

Genevieve gave a small smile. And they swept from the house.

•~0~•

By the time they got to the Department of Mysteries, a fight was in full force. Lupin and Kingsley had already convinced the others to tell her, and Genevieve knew exactly what the fight was over.

They burst into the room, running as fast as they could. Genevieve sent Stunning Spells and Impediment Jinxes at every Death Eater in sight, not checking if they made contact.

A Death Eater ran up to her.

 _"Impedimenta!"_ she cried.

They dodged, but sent a burst of red light back at her. She jumped out of the way.

 _"Stupefy!"_

The Death Eater ducked. They raised their wand.

 _"Crucio!"_

 _"Petrificus Totalus!"_

They fell forward, rigid as a board. Genevieve barely had time to breathe before another shot a curse at her.

 _"Expelliarmus!"_

The wand flew toward her. By some miracle, she caught it and deftly snapped it in half.

And so she continued, dueling, ducking. Genevieve kept waiting for her trademark clumsiness to kick in, but it never came. On the contrary, she felt almost at ease, flinging spells at someone, like it was a talent, or some gene she'd inherited.

Genevieve saw Sirius darting toward someone she recognized as Bellatrix Lestrange and she bolted, close behind.

"Run!" Sirius shouted at her as they both dodged curses from the cackling Bellatrix, sending a few of their own back. "Get the others and run!"

"I'm not leaving you!" Genevieve said stubbornly, still shooting curses at Bellatrix.

"Ooh!" Bellatrix smirked. "Guess she takes after your side of the family, dear cousin."

She continued in a mocking voice. _"The woyal and bwave._ Just as useless as her mother!"

"Don't you dare talk about my mother!" Genevieve snarled, ducking another curse.

"And why not?" Bellatrix laughed. "She _was_ family, after all. _Little pathetic Alya Black_ , or did your father not tell you?"

"You're crazy!" Genevieve spat.

"Am I? Or maybe I'm crazy and right!" Bellatrix cackled, sounding more insane by the minute. "Your mother was born to nice, respectable, pure-blood parents, Blacks! But she _never_ fit in!"

Genevieve shook her head, shooting a Stunning Spell at Bellatrix. She missed.

"And then she married your disgusting Mudblood father! Dropped a name she should've been _proud of!_ Told everyone to call her Allie Snow! Had _you_!"

Genevieve looked at Sirius. They had both taken refuge for a few seconds behind an abandoned desk.

"Is this true?" she asked quietly.

Sirius gave her a gentle smile. "Your mother was my favorite relative. You're so much like her."

Genevieve grinned despite herself.

"Oh yes!" cackled Bellatrix. "What a happy little _filthy_ family! And then I had the honor of stamping that traitor out of the family tree!"

Bellatrix destroyed the desk. Genevieve stood up, seething, her wand raised.

 _"You killed my mother?"_

"Oh yes!" Bellatrix beamed with pride. "Not before I made her suffer, of course! Yes, the Cruciatus Curse can be a source of wonderful entertainment! And sweet, _sweet_ revenge! But eventually I did pity her, I put that bitch out of her misery!"

 _"Stupefy!"_

Genevieve's aim was much truer this time. Bellatrix had to spring out of the way.

"Oh, you're good, little Gennie! But not good enough!"

She laughed. Genevieve hadn't thought any person's laugh could be worse than Umbridge's. This was so much more.

 _"Don't — call — me — GENNIE!"_

Genevieve shattered a shelf behind Bellatrix. The witch simply cackled in glee. Sirius joined Genevieve, they both hurtled curses at her, and each time Bellatrix barely managed to escape.

Genevieve was vaguely aware that no one else was still fighting. Sirius' laugh sounded behind her as he dodged her latest jet of red light.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" he goaded.

"Yeah!" Genevieve shouted. "Put some effort into it!"

Sirius was still laughing. Bellatrix cast another curse. This one hit its target.

Sirius flew backward through the air, face still contorted in laughter, but eyes widened in shock. He fell through a veil. Genevieve faintly remembered hearing voices whispering behind when they had first entered. They were so much louder now.

"NO!" Genevieve screamed. She tore toward it, trying to get to him, get to Sirius.

Bellatrix screeched in delight. Harry was right beside Genevieve, trying to do the same, but Lupin held him back, and her father kept her away.

Genevieve sobbed.

"NO!" she looked around desperately. Kingsley and her father were staring back at her. Lupin was still trying to restrain Harry.

"NO!" Genevieve cried again. "HE _CAN'T_ BE DEAD! I _CAN'T_ LOSE HIM! I'VE ONLY JUST GOT HIM!"

They looked back at her and shook their heads. _"No,"_ she whispered. She still clutched her wand tightly in her hand.

Genevieve turned to her father.

"Let me go," she said, her eyes brimming with tears.

He shook his head.

"Let me go!"

"No, Genevieve! I-I'm _sorry._ You can't go after Bellatrix; she's been trying to murder us all for a long time. We can't give her the chance. Not now."

She could hear his breathing, harsh. He'd lost someone important to him too. But she'd lost a connection, a piece of her mother. Fathers simply couldn't say everything.

Genevieve had gained a family and lost it all in one day. She barely realized Dumbledore was there. She felt numb. Tonks was unconscious, and Moody was trying to revive her. Kingsley had gone to keep fighting Bellatrix. Except he wasn't. Bellatrix had hurt him too. Harry sprinted after her, but Genevieve didn't care. She didn't care.

She had gained everything and lost everything all in one instant. Barely aware of what she was doing, she walked over to where Luna groaned, Ginny clutched her ankle, Ron giggled, and Hermione was unconscious. Neville had a broken nose, from the looks of it.

Genevieve sat down next to Ginny.

"Broken ankle?" she asked without a hint of a smile.

The girl nodded.

"I've been there. Here — "

Genevieve conjured a small jar. _"Aguamenti!"_ Water gushed into it. _"Glacius!"_ The water froze.

Genevieve handed it to Ginny, who stuck it against her ankle and closed her eyes.

"Where's the prophecy?" she asked feebly. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.

"Gone," Neville said, though his broken nose muddled his speech. "I smashed id. I didn'd bean do — "

"It's fine," Genevieve hugged her legs. "At least Voldemort can't have it."

•~0~•

Madam Pomfrey was cleaning everyone up. She tended to a deep cut Genevieve hadn't even realized she had.

"Must have brushed against something in that accursed Department of Mysteries," she said. "May leave a scar, there's no telling what it was . . ."

Usually, Madam Pomfrey would be tutting about children and their need for adventure, but as she tended to Genevieve, she was oddly quiet. She had a gentle look on her face. Maybe the others had told her. Might as well. None of it mattered anyway.

Genevieve sat numbly in a chair in the hospital wing, having dropped by with Luna to visit the some of the others, but she saw no point. Hermione read from a new article, Ron tossed her a few Chocolate Frogs, but mostly Genevieve stared into a corner of the room. She glanced at her arm. A scar was beginning to form there, just like Madam Pomfrey said. She wasn't aware how much time had passed. Dumbledore popped his head in.

"Genevieve?" he looked at her. "Ah. I thought you might be in here. Yes, well, would you please come with me? I'd like to discuss the next school year with you."

Genevieve stood up. Ron gaped at her. "Surely _you_ don't have to repeat a year!"

She shrugged at Ron and followed Dumbledore into his office. Professor McGonagall was already waiting there with a walking stick, having just returned from St. Mungo's.

"Hello, Professor. How are you?" Genevieve asked politely.

McGonagall gave her a smile. "Better, Genevieve."

Genevieve was taken aback. This was the first time McGonagall had called her by her first name, unless the Sorting counted, which was "Snow, Genevieve."

"Please," Dumbledore said, sitting in his own chair, "sit."

Genevieve sat down, now slightly scared. Had she been overconfident with her N.E.W.T.s?

"Now, I believe that, two years ago, you expressed interest in remaining at Hogwarts as a sort of teacher's assistant?"

Genevieve nodded. She'd forgotten all about it. "Yes, Professor."

"Is this still something you want?"

Genevieve thought for a brief moment. Even through all the pain and numbness, her answer shined through.

"Yes, Professor."

"May I ask why?"

"Well," Genevieve bit her lip, thinking. "I came to this school wanting to learn, but I gained so much more than that through coming here. I want to pass that onto others. I want to give what I received. And something about here makes me feel comfortable. It's like a second home. And I know this is an extremely unusual request, but I don't think I'm ready to leave this place. Not yet."

Dumbledore smiled. "Very well. I expected at the beginning of the year you might feel that way, which is why I decided to give you a bit of a test."

Genevieve furrowed her brow in confusion. "A test?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "You were made Head Girl, unexpectedly, despite the fact that you had never been a prefect. As you most likely know, though not necessarily linked, the latter usually precedes the former. The test was to see how you would handle sudden power, authority over others, and the responsibility to do what is right for them."

"And did I pass?" Genevieve prompted. She felt that she had done well, though she perhaps might have been a bit biased against the Slytherins.

"You did wonderfully. You did not let this new development go to your head, and you were a very good leader. When you weren't sure what to do, you still tried to your best ability. However, I would like to discuss what this new job would entail."

"I'm prepared to work wherever I'm needed," Genevieve offered. "I can help different teachers on different days if need be — "

Dumbledore held up his hand. "I'm afraid that won't be necessary."

Genevieve's shoulders slumped in disappointment. What use could she be now? Dumbledore went on.

"Ever since you proposed the idea to Professor McGonagall here," he gestured to her, "she has rather fiercely advocated for your appointment as her personal assistant teacher, should you choose to accept."

Genevieve smiled for what felt like the first time in forever. "I accept."

"Good. Now there is the matter as to where you will stay. It would be unsuitable, after all, for you to reside with your students."

Professor McGonagall stepped in. "It matters not if we have to put an Extension Charm on my quarters," she said firmly. "If Genevieve wishes to remain at Hogwarts, so she will."

"Then I believe the matter is settled," Dumbledore said cheerfully, standing up. Genevieve got to her feet as well. He extended a hand. "Welcome to the Hogwarts staff."


	16. Chapter 16: Goodbye But Not Forever

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

 **I did forget to include a detail in the original chapter fifteen that I thought you guys should know, so if you'd like to go back and read it, you can now. It's not _essential_ to the story, but it does explain something.**

•~0~•

Genevieve walked into the abandoned girls bathroom and sat down.

"Hello, Myrtle," she said with about as much enthusiasm as Myrtle was usually known for.

The ghost came out of her U-bend, glaring at her.

"Hello," she said coolly, "I see you're a little down today. Is it because you felt obligated to see me one last time before you went off forever and happily forgot about me?"

"Wha — _no_!" Genevieve almost smiled. "I've had a bad week, is all. A really bad one. But actually, you brought up an event that was probably the highlight of it: I'm not leaving. I'm coming back."

Myrtle scoffed. "You expect me to believe that? You're quite known for being the smartest witch in the school. You can't've possibly failed a year."

"You're right, I didn't." Genevieve paused. "At least I hope I didn't. But that's not what I was talking about."

"So what were you, then?" Myrtle asked, seeming interested now. "Go on, spit it out."

Genevieve grinned. "Okay, you're the first person I've told, but I've been hired here. I'm going to help teach at Hogwarts!"

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, Professor McGonagall has offered to take me on. She's going to be a kind of mentor to me. I'm not leaving yet, probably not for at least a couple more years."

Myrtle smiled. "Celebratory crossword, then?"

Genevieve pulled out a thick book. "Definitely."

•~0~•

Genevieve stood with the rest in her year, quite as anxious as she had been before her Sorting. McGonagall was, once again, calling up their names in alphabetical order. Finally —

"Snow, Genevieve!"

Genevieve took a deep breath before approaching her Head of House. McGonagall smiled as she handed her an envelope.

"It has truly been a pleasure teaching you these past seven years, Genevieve, and I look forward to working with you next year."

Genevieve returned the smile. "It's been a pleasure learning from you, Professor. I can't wait to continue doing it."

As she walked away, she opened her N.E.W.T. results.

 **NASTILY EXHAUSTING WIZARDING TEST RESULTS**

 _Pass Grades:_

Outstanding (O)

Exceeds Expectations (E)

Acceptable (A)

 _Fail Grades:_

Poor (P)

Dreadful (D)

Troll (T)

 ** _GENEVIEVE ELIZABETH SNOW HAS ACHIEVED_**

 _Care of Magical Creatures: O_

 _Charms: O_

 _Defense Against the Dark Arts: O_

 _Herbology: O_

 _Potions: O_

 _Study of Ancient Runes: O_

 _Transfiguration: O_

Genevieve smiled. Perfect scores.

When everyone had received their results, Genevieve stood up to address them.

"Hello," she started. "Well, here we are, we've been through seven years together, and we've all learned loads. Some of those lessons have been curriculum-related, and some have taught us about life itself. We've learned, and we keep learning. Such is life.

"There's a war coming. Voldemort" — several of her classmates and even teachers flinched — "is back, and we're going out into a world in which, realistically, not everyone can survive, as much as we want them to. This world will be riddled with loss and devastation and death. Everyone will be touched in some way.

"But we mustn't let that stop us. We're going out into a darkened world, and I believe that it's our responsibility to bring some light. Cherish your loved ones, appreciate every moment," Genevieve wiped her eyes, "and, perhaps most importantly, find the good, and told tight to it. Laugh. Smile. Cry. If we are overcome with emotion, it means we can _feel_ emotion. The future belongs to the changers, so what are we going to change?

"So, fellow graduates, I hope that we can all move forward, forward into a dangerous world, but forward nonetheless. Every step, every moment matters, and we have not gone through seven straight years of stress — er, sorry, Professors — " There were titters. Genevieve looked to the Heads and Dumbledore, all of whom simply waited for her next words, "— to wallow around and wait for devastation to come find us. We must act. We must be brave and smart and loyal and ambitious. We mustn't let our differences divide us. We must stand united. Let's make Hogwarts proud."

With one final cheer, they clambered into the boats they had ridden seven years ago and glided away. Genevieve turned to Lee, with whom she was sharing a boat.

"Merlin, these seem so much smaller than I remember," Genevieve said reminiscently.

Lee laughed. "Yeah, I knew they would be, but blimey, we must've been titchy!"

"So what are you planning on doing this summer?"

"Not entirely sure. But I know one place where we'll both be spending a lot of time — "

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," they chorused.

"Merlin, Gen," Lee said after a short silence, "your speech back there was quite — "

"— sappy?" Genevieve supplied, grinning.

"Well, yes," Lee admitted. "But true."

They boarded the train, where Katie was already waiting for them.

"Fred, George, you two. I can't believe none of you are going to be here next year," she said gloomily.

"Well," Genevieve said. They looked at her. "I haven't told anyone but Myrtle yet, and the staff know, of course, but I'll be back next year. I'm going to be teaching with McGonagall."

Their eyes widened. Katie smacked her.

"Why didn't you tell me that?"

"My dad doesn't even know yet!" Genevieve said defensively. "I only told Myrtle because I could tell she was on the verge of flooding the bathroom again, and Filch hates me enough as it is."

"Fair point," Katie said, leaning back again. "But we won't be able to see each other often; I'll have N.E.W.T.s, and you're not going to be allowed to skive off anything if you wanted to visit me. Not that you ever did anyway," she added.

"I hadn't thought about that," Genevieve said. "Same place, different life."

"Then let's make the most of the time we've got," Lee proposed. "Exploding Snap?"

They played until the train slowed to a stop. Genevieve dragged her trunk and crossed the barrier.

She was immediately taken aback. Her father, Moody, Lupin, Tonks, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred, and George were waiting on the other side.

"Oh hello, Genevieve!" Mrs. Weasley hugged her so tightly she nearly suffocated.

"What're the lot of you doing here?" Genevieve asked, pleasantly surprised, as Fred and George nearly tackled her.

The twins smirked. "Thought we'd see you back from school."

Genevieve's eyes narrowed. "And _what_ are you wearing?"

They were both dressed in jackets of suspiciously scaly green material. They also looked suddenly nervous.

"Er — dragon skin," George confessed sheepishly.

"And why, heaven forbid, would you find the need buy something made from the _skin_ of a dragon?"

"Because business is booming, and treating ourselves seemed like the thing to do," Fred said defiantly. He shrank slightly as Genevieve's eyebrows raised. "Just please don't tell Charlie."

Genevieve laughed. She turned to Lupin. Sure, Genevieve had lost family, but he had lost the last of his best mates, a fellow Marauder.

"How're you doing, Genevieve?" he asked gently.

"I feel like I should be asking you that question," she said back.

"And I think we'd both be telling lies if we bothered to answer it," Lupin finished.

Genevieve smiled weakly. He pulled her into a hug.

"You're strong," he told her reassuringly.

"As are you," she replied.

When Genevieve stepped back, Tonks approached her. "Wotcher, Genevieve," she greeted. "I don't reckon you know this, but I was related to Sirius too, and my mother was also an outcast of the family. Disowned." Tonks shrugged. "So I guess that means we're related."

"Think clumsiness is a family trait?" Genevieve joked.

"Maybe just for us," Tonks answered, smiling.

They laughed.

Moody limped up to her, a bowler hat covering his magical eye. He cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry about Sirius," he said. "But just know your mother was nothing like the rest of that family. Bit like Sirius, actually, though much brighter."

Genevieve nodded. She smiled. "I know."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had gotten through by now.

"Ron, Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley hugged them. "Oh, and Harry dear — how are you?"

"Fine," he said a bit unenthusiastically as she hugged him too.

Ron stared, wide-eyed, at the twins.

"What are _they_ supposed to be?" He pointed to the jackets.

"Finest dragon skin, little bro," Fred ignored the dirty look Genevieve shot him. "Business is booming and we thought we'd treat ourselves."

"Hello, Harry," Lupin greeted.

"Hi. I didn't expect . . . what are you all doing here?"

"Well," Lupin almost smirked, "we thought we might have a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home."

"I dunno if that's a good idea," Harry said warily.

"Oh, I think it is," Moody said. "That'll be them, will it, Potter?"

Her father stepped forward, but Genevieve held up her hand.

"I've got this," she told him.

Genevieve followed Moody and Mr. Weasley over to the Dursleys.

"Good afternoon," Mr. Weasley greeted cheerfully. "You might remember me, my name's Arthur Weasley."

"And me, Genevieve Snow," she offered. "We met on the same day."

They glowered at them, most likely remembering that day. Mr. Weasley _had_ blown up their fireplace.

"We though we'd just have a few words with you about Harry," Mr. Weasley continued.

"Yeah," Moody said in his usual threatening voice. "About how he's treated when he's at your place."

Mr. Dursley bristled. "I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my house — "

"I expect what you're not aware of would fill several books, Dursley," Moody interrupted impatiently.

"Anyway, that's not the point," Tonks said, steering the conversation back. "The point is, if we find out you've been horrible to Harry — "

"— and make no mistake, we'll hear about it," Lupin assured them.

"Yes," Mr. Weasley said confidently, "even if you won't let Harry use the fellytone — "

 _"Telephone,"_ Genevieve and Hermione corrected.

"Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter's been mistreated in any way, you'll have us to answer to," Moody continued.

Mr. Dursley swelled up. "Are you threatening me, sir?"

"Bing, bing, bing, you got one right," Genevieve said pleasantly.

"Yes, I am," Moody said.

This seemed to offend him even more. "And do I look like the kind of man what can be intimidated?"

"Well . . ." Moody pushed back his bowler hat. The magical eye focused on Mr. Dursley, who retreated at the sight of it. Genevieve snorted. "Yes, I'd have to say you do, Dursley."

Moody addressed Harry. "So, Potter . . . give us a shout if you need us. If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone along . . ."

The very notion seemed to traumatize Mrs. Dursley.

" 'Bye, then, Potter."

"Take care, Harry," Lupin said. "Keep in touch."

"I'll send you some Honeydukes chocolate just as soon as I can," Genevieve whispered in his ear.

Mr. Weasley said something to Harry as well while he hugged him.

"We'll see you soon, mate," Ron said.

"Really soon, Harry," Hermione vowed. "We promise."

Harry nodded.

As he left, Genevieve walked back over to her father.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, looking her right in the eye.

"No," Genevieve said. "Not yet. Let's go home, Dad."


End file.
